The Queen's Other Son
by mmgage
Summary: Set post TDTW&TW. When Amy and Rory agree to take a trip with the Doctor, they find themselves somewhere familiar. 20 years have passed in Umbria since their last visit, but court intrigue remains just as dangerous. Sequel to my earlier story, The Doctor, the Nurse, and the Queen. Reviews will be greatly appreciated!
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Two boys, clad in nightshirts, raced through the dimly-lit and dusty secret passage. The upper portion of the passage ended suddenly and a short ladder led down to the lower level. The older boy reached the ladder first and climbed down.

"Hurry up, Hal," he called as he reached the bottom. He looked up to see his younger, half-brother standing at the top, staring down with huge eyes. "C'mon, Hal!"

"I... I'm coming, Arthur," Hal said, continuing to stare.

"It's not that high," urged the older boy. "You made it up there all right. You can come down."

"Up is different."

"It's not really."

"It is," Hal insisted.

"It can't possibly be as scary as what will happen if we aren't in our beds when Mother comes in to wish us good-night," Arthur retorted. Hal paled a little and Arthur softened his tone. "Come on, Hal. I know you can do this."

"You always think I can do things," Hal muttered. He sat down on the ledge, steeling himself to reach for the ladder.

"I'm always right, aren't I?" asked Arthur. When Hal said nothing he continued. "I'm right here. I won't let you fall." Hal didn't answer, but he did reach for the ladder. Arthur stayed where he was as his brother slowly made his way down. The moment Hal reached the floor, Arthur grabbed his hand and the two boys ran down the dusty passage.

They made it back through the secret door into their bedroom with just enough time to replace the chair which usually sat in front of it and get themselves into their beds before they heard their mother's voice at the regular door. A second later she pushed it open and stepped into the room. A single candle was burning on the small table which sat between the boys' beds and its flickering light glinted off the silk of their mother's dress and made the jewels she wore gleam. She was dressed in a gold-coloured gown, adorned with jewelry made of dark blue stones, and around her head was a circlet of gold. Both boys thought she looked very beautiful, just as a queen should.

"Are you all ready for bed?" she asked as she came toward them.

"Yes, Mother," Arthur replied. "We were just waiting for you."

"Waiting patiently, right here, were you?" Arthur opened his mouth to answer and the queen reached out to pull a cobweb from his dark hair. He closed his mouth as he blushed, and his mother chuckled. She perched on the edge of Hal's bed and reached out to rub at a smudge of dirt on his nose before smoothing his reddish-brown hair.

"Did you get a good look at the people at the banquet?" she asked.

"Yes, Mother," Hal answered, shooting a nervous glance at his older brother. "I... I know we were supposed to go to bed..."

"It was my idea," Arthur said. "I wanted to see the banquet."

"And what did you think when you did see it?"

"I... I thought it looked like a lot of over-dressed people were bored and not eating much. Did they all have early suppers or something?"

"Maybe they were afraid they'd spill something on their fancy clothes," suggested Hal and the queen laughed.

"Maybe they are."

"Are you going to go back now?" asked Arthur.

"In a few minutes."

"Will you tell us a story before you go?" pleaded Hal. "Just one. Please?"

"All right," agreed the queen. "Do you have a story in mind?"

"I do," said Arthur. "I want to hear about the time the Doctor, Amy, and Rory came."

"I don't know," replied his mother. "That's a long story for bedtime."

"Please?" begged Hal.

"We'll ask your father. I can't tell it properly without him."

"Because he was there, wasn't he?" asked Arthur. "It's not just a story, is it? You're the queen and Lord Grist is the noble knight. The Doctor, Amy, and Rory are real people too, aren't they?"

"Yes, they're real."

"And the men who kidnapped the queen - who kidnapped _you_ - they were your father and brother," continued Arthur.

"Yes they were."

"Why would they do that to you?" asked Hal, his eyes wide. "They were your family. They were supposed to help you, not hurt you."

"They should have helped me but they didn't. My father was... not a nice man. My brother wanted so badly to please him that he was willing to do almost anything. But remember, in the end Geoff realized he was wrong and he did try to help me."

"So, if you were the queen and father is the noble knight, then Arthur must be the prince," said Hal.

"That's right."

"So you actually met them." Hal stared at Arthur with wide eyes.

"I guess I did," answered his brother. "I don't remember much about it though."

"Will they ever come back? The Doctor and Amy and Rory?" asked Hal. "I want to meet them."

"I don't know if they'll come back," replied the queen. "I promised that they'd always be welcome here though so if they do..."

"We will treat them with every courtesy," finished Arthur.

"I'm sure you will," said his mother, smiling, "as a good king should treat his true friends."

"And I'll help, right?" asked Hal.

"Of course you will, Silly," replied Arthur. "You're my brother, aren't you? Brothers help each other."

"You're not worried that I'll grow up to be like Geoff?" Anne gasped at the question but Arthur didn't hesitate.

"You'd never be like him," he said. "I know you won't."

"Will we always be friends, even after you're the king?"

"Of course we will."

"As the two of you grow up, you might not always agree about everything, but I hope you'll always look out for each other," the queen told them.

"We will," Arthur said.

"Yes," agreed Hal, nodding.

"There's an awful lot of talking going on in here." Lord Grist's voice came from the doorway and everyone in the room watched as he stepped in. He was as well-dressed as his wife, though his clothing was in more muted shades. A heavy signet ring glinted on one finger. "I thought it was bedtime."

"We were waiting for you, my dear," said the queen. "The boys have requested a special story."

"One which requires my presence? It must be special indeed."

"It is," said Hal.

"And what story would this be?"

"We want to hear about the Doctor, Amy, and Rory," Arthur told him.

"Ah. That is definitely a special story," Grist said. He looked at Anne. "Do you suppose your guests at the banquet will mind waiting while we tell it?"

"I think they'll manage," she answered.

"Well then, I will need this chair." Grist crossed the room to get the chair from in front of the secret door. He pulled it over so he could sit near the foot of Arthur's bed. "Now, who shall begin?" he asked.


	2. Chapter 1: Amy

_**Here we go with our next installment.**_

**Chapter One: Amy**

Amy paced the small cell. Her arms were folded across her chest, partly because she was angry and partly because she was chilled. The stone walls and floor of the dungeon held on to the chilliness from the air, leaving the interior of the cell a good ten degrees colder than the outside of the structure. The cold was seeping in through the thin soles of her boots and she wished she'd worn trousers instead of leggings under her long sweater.

She reached on side of the cell and turned to go back the way she'd come. As she moved she looked up at the cell's lone window, a small, barred opening set high in the exterior wall of the cell. She could see sunlight, barely, and as she passed close to it, she caught a whiff of acrid smoke. She shivered a little and drew her short jacket closer around her. She'd been so happy just a short time earlier, traveling in the TARDIS with her best friend and her husband, and now they were trapped in a dungeon.

Amy had often wondered what she and Rory would do when the Doctor resurfaced (she'd never allowed herself to doubt that he would come to see her again). As the time had passed, they'd settled into their house, made lives for themselves, and they'd been happy. They'd missed the Doctor, and it would have been nice if River could have popped in for visits more regularly, but all in all they'd been content. If the Doctor were to invite them to come with him, what would they say? She couldn't see Rory agreeing to leave it all behind, and if she were totally honest, she wasn't sure she'd want to either. On the other hand she wasn't sure she'd be able to bear it if the Doctor left without inviting them to join him.

In the end Amy found she needn't have worried. The Doctor had finally turned up, in time for Christmas dinner, and he did invite them to come along for a trip. Rory had agreed to go, so long as they were back in time for a New Year's Eve party. The Doctor had promised, and they'd stepped into that magical blue box the morning after Christmas, ready for a new adventure. Unfortunately, things were not starting out well. First, the TARDIS had landed somewhere dark and dank. They'd just turned on a torch to get a look around when they'd heard running footsteps approaching. Two men had dashed past, shouting for them to get out. The trio had raced after them, barely making it out of the building before the explosion. Amy had caught a brief glimpse of a courtyard, surrounded by stone walls, before the force of the blast had thrown them to the ground. She'd buried her face into the gravel-covered ground, shielding her head with her amrs as best she could, while rubble rained around them. When they'd finally picked themselves up, they'd found men with swords surrounding them. The men wore quilted black tunics topped with light chain-mail and snug breeches tucked into knee-high boots. The men had caught hold of them at once. Their leader had informed them that they were under arrest, rattling off the charges before any of them could protest. The second he finished speaking the guards marched them away, taking them to the dungeon and leaving them in the cell they now occupied.

Amy reached the opposite side of the cell, where the room's sole furnishing, a wooden bench, sat. The Doctor sat sideways on one of it and Rory was behind him, holding a handkerchief to the back of the Time Lord's head. As Amy came to stand in front of the Doctor, her husband moved the cloth aside to take a look at the wound beneath it. He pressed it back into place a second later and the Doctor hissed, flinching away from the pressure. Rory chided him to hold still.

"It's still bleeding a little," Rory told her, "but I think it's slowing."

"Great," she answered. "We wouldn't want him to bleed on the executioner."

"They're not going to execute us," protested the Doctor.

"They think we blew up their Parliament building," Amy retorted.

"And tried to kill their Lord High Steward," added Rory. "Whoever that is."

"Ok, it looks bad," admitted the Doctor, "but we can explain."

"Right," said Rory. "We just happened to emerge from the cellar where the barrels of gunpowder were seconds before they exploded."

"Well, obviously if we had been involved in the plot, we would have known to be far from the building at the time of the explosion."

"We have to have a chance to explain first," Amy pointed out. "They chucked us in here how long ago?"

"It's only been about twenty minutes," Rory told her.

"Well, still..."

"It'll be all right," the Doctor said. "They're bound to send someone in sooner or later, if only to question us."

"Questioning," muttered Rory. "Great." Amy ignored him as a new worry nagged her.

"Doctor, what about the TARDIS?" she asked.

"What about her?"

"She was in the cellar, close to the explosion. Won't she be... damaged?"

"The TARDIS is virtually indestructible," the Doctor answered reassuringly. "She'll be fine."

"But she _is_ buried in the rubble," Rory pointed out. "Even if we find a way to get out of here, we can't get back to the ship. We're stuck wherever we are... and why aren't you worried about this?"

"Yeah," Amy said. "You're unnaturally calm. Did you hit your head harder than we thought?"

"I didn't hit my head at all. A flying rock hit my head."

"Doctor..." The sound of squealing hinges made Amy turn away. Two pairs of black-clad guards had entered the dungeon. The man in between the pairs look small in comparison. His quitled tunic didn't disguise his slight figure and he was just tall enough to peer over the shoulders of the men in front of him. They parted as they reached the cell, letting him step up between them. Amy thought he looked young, no more than 18 or 19. He was clean-shaven, with hazel eyes and reddish-brown hair. His light blue tunic was of a silken material, much finer than that worn by the guards, and trimmed with gold fabric around the neck and hem. He wore dark brown breeches tucked into matching boots. There was a gold signet ring on one of his fingers.

"So these are the people you think tried to kill me," he said, glancing at the guard on his right. Amy looked over too, noting the way the man stood close to the younger man and the silver broach on his tunic.

"We didn't!" she protested. The guardsman spoke over her, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Yes, M'Lord," he said. "They were found in the cellar of the Parliament building and just barely escaped the blast."

"How careless of them," murmured the young man. "They are strangely dressed for assassins too." He took a step toward the cell, waving away a protest from the guardsman, and frowned. His gaze slid from Amy to the Doctor and after a second his lips lifted in a half-smile.

"I think you've made a mistake, Captain. These are no assassins."

"M'Lord?" The Captain arched his thick, blonde brows.

"It's really you, isn't it?" the young man asked, his eyes moving from Rory to the Doctor to Amy and back again. His smile broadened and he laughed. "I can hardly believe this. The three of you, in my dungeon!"

"The three of us would like to get out of your dungeon," Amy said. "Now." The young man's smile faltered.

"Of... of course. Captain, please release these people at once."

"But M'Lord..."

"They are not assassins, Captain. They are my honored guests."

**_This is the part where I turn it back over to you!_  
**


	3. Chapter 2: Rory

_**Many thanks to all of you who have read, reviewed, signed up for alerts and/or added this story to your favorites. I really appreciate the support!**_

Rory stared in shock as the young man ordered the captain of guards to release them. He thought he had to be hearing him wrong. To judge from the look on the guardsman's face, he felt the same way. His mouth was open in an "o" of surprise beneath his bushy blonde mustache.

"Mi... M'Lord," he stammered.

"If you please, Captain. My guests grow weary of this dungeon, as do I." The older man stared at the younger for a second before he seemed to shake himself.

"Of course," he said, turning to wave forward one of the other guards. As he stepped up to the door, Rory saw that he had a ring of keys on his belt. He fumbled with them, searching for the right one. Meanwhile, the young man had stepped away to speak to another of the guards. Rory watched them, trying to figure out what was going on. The young man had called them his honored guests, but it was clear that the captain was skeptical about that. As he watched, the guard nodded and gave a half-bow to the young man before turning to hurry away. The young man moved back to his place beside the captain as the guard at the door finally fitted the correct key into the lock. The Doctor sprang to his feet as the key turned in the lock and started toward the door. Rory hurried after him, still clutching the handkerchief he'd been pressing against the Doctor's head.

"Wait!" he protested. The Doctor ignored him, stepping out of the cell the second the door was opened.

"Come along, Ponds!" he said cheerfully. With a shrug, Amy turned to follow him and Rory hurried after her, folding over the handkerchief before tucking it into his pocket. The Doctor had stopped in front of the young man and the captain. Rory started to step up next to him but Amy caught his arm, keeping him back a few steps. She kept her eyes on the guards, muttering to him through her smile.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?"

"I'm not sure," he answered. His eyes moved from the guards to the young man. Rory couldn't shake the feeling that there was something familiar about him though he wasn't sure why he felt that way. The captain still looked disapproving, but the other guards appeared more curious than alarmed. The young man seemed almost awe-struck as he spoke.

"I still cannot believe you're here," he told the Doctor. He looked past the Time Lord to Amy and Rory. "All three of you together, looking just as you were described. It's like a dream!" He beamed at them, his eyes wide with wonder, and Rory felt his face warm. The two guards were staring as well, increasing his discomfort. He glanced at Amy to find her looking just as confused. He lifted his shoulders in a shrug and she sighed, turning her gaze back to the young man.

"I thought we were getting out of this dungeon," she said and the young man's face fell.

"Yes of course. Forgive me, Mistress Pond. It's just... so thrilling to have you here!" He shook his head, looking contrite. "Come. I'm having chambers prepared for you at the palace. While that's being done, we'll stop in mine and take some refreshment." He motioned for them to come with him and started toward the door out of the dungeon. The captain took the lead, with the young man following. The Doctor fell into step behind them and Rory moved after him, with Amy on his heels. The other two guards brought up the rear.

A short flight of stone steps took them up out of the dungeon and into the courtyard. Rory squinted in the sunlight and turned to look over at the rubble of the Parliament building. He'd only gotten a glimpse of it earlier before the guards had sezied him and started to haul him away. The sight of the mass of stone and collapsed timbers, with smoke still rising from it, made his heart sink. Digging out the TARDIS would be extremely difficult, and he didn't share the Doctor's confidence that the ship would be undamaged.

"C'mon," Amy murmured, nudging him, and he realized that the Doctor and the young man had moved a few feet ahead of them. They were walking side by side now, with the captain just ahead of them. Rory and Amy quickened their steps to catch them up. The young man was speaking when they reached them.

"... been hearing about you three for most of my life."

"Really?" asked the Doctor. He glanced back at Amy and Rory, grinning.

"Oh yes!" continued the young man. "The story of your visit was my favorite bed-time story when I was a child. It was my fondest wish to get to meet you one day."

"You picked a strange way to welcome us," Amy said, "throwing us into your dungeon." The man turned to look back at her, looking alarmed.

"No, no. That was a misunderstanding," he told her. "I hope you won't hold it against me, Mistress Pond, and will give me a chance to explain."

"M'Lord, we should wait to discuss such matters until we're safely inside the palace," said the captain. The young man's eyes widened but his voice was level.

"Right. Of course," he said, nodding. "I trust all of you can be patient a little longer." The captain caught his elbow, urging him to quicken his steps, and he looked away. Amy shook her head and they all lengthened their strides, hurrying to keep up with the captain and the young man. A large wrought iron gate was a few yards ahead of them and Rory could see a massive brick building just beyond it. The structure was a strange blending of fortress and manor house, with crennelated-topped turrets and several chimneys. A large bay window was outlined in marble, with a figure of a crouching lion carved in the white stone beneath it.

One of the guards pulled open the gate as they approached, and both men bowed deeply as they moved past. The gate was closed immediately behind them and they continued up a gravel path toward the palace. More guards waited at a heavy wooden door; it took both of them to open it to admit them into the building.

Rory was breathing heavily by the time they entered the palace and he was relieved when the young man and the captain of guards slowed their pace. The hall they entered was wide enough that they could walk five abreast and the Doctor didn't hesitate to move up alongside the young man. The captain glowered over at him but the Time Lord seemed oblivious. His gaze roamed about the hall and Rory had no doubt he was noting more than just the quality of the artwork which decorated the corridor walls. There was a mix of tapestries and large, nearly life-sized portraits. Rory got glimpses of a few of the portraits, all showing men decked out in robes and crowns, before they turned into a smaller, darker corridor. There were more tapestries here. Rory had the impression that they were older and not of as fine a quality as those in the main corridor.

They made a few more turns before they finally came to a stop. The captain opened a door and stepped back to wave them into the room. The young man led the way, with the Doctor just behind him. Amy went next and Rory followed her, leaving the guard to come last. Rory had just cleared the threshold when he heard the Doctor give a happy exclamation. He came to a stop, looking to see the Doctor clasping hands with a broad-shouldered man in dark tunic and breeches. The man turned as Rory and Amy approached, the lines around his eyes deepening as he beamed. The man's hair was white and there were deep lines in his face but despite that, Rory realized with a start that he recognized him.

"Lord Eckhart?" he asked.

_**And now's the part where you chime in!**_


	4. Chapter 3: The Doctor

_**Here's our next installment. Many thanks to all of you for reading this. I hope you're enjoying it!**_

The Doctor was delighted to recognize Lord Eckhart waiting for them. Not only was it a pleasure to see an old friend, but Eckhart's presence confirmed the Doctor's belief that they were in Umbria. He'd been fairly certain, but the stench of gunpowder had masked other scents which might have confirmed it, and the portraits they'd passed in the palace had been too old to include the face he'd hoped to see. He strode forward to return Eckhart's greeting, his relief adding to his enthusiasm, and turned in time to see the shock of recognition sweep across Rory's face. Amy took a minute longer, not catching on until her husband said Eckhart's name. She came forward to greet him with a tentative smile.

"You are lovely as ever, Mistress Pond," Eckhart told her, bowing over her hand. "I'd swear you haven't aged a day."

"How long has it been since we were last here?" Rory asked.

"Let me see," Eckhart answered, glancing over at the young man who'd freed them. "Hal was born nearly a year after you left and he's not yet twenty..."

"I will be in a few more weeks," the young man said, folding his arms over his chest. The air of confidence he'd projected in the dungeon and during their walk through the palace was gone. The Doctor wondered if it was a result of being out of public view, or if it had something to do with Eckhart's presence. He studied the young man as Eckhart continued. There was something familiar about him.

"So it's been nearly twenty-one years, at least, for us. I would wager the same amount of time has not passed for all of you."

"No," Rory said, "not quite the same."

"What about Queen Anne, and Lord Grist?" asked Amy. "Are they here somewhere?"

"Alas, no," answered Eckhart. "The queen... ahem, the queen mother, I should say, retired to the country last year. Lord Grist went with her though at the moment he has gone north, with King Arthur."

"And who would you be then?" Amy shifted her gaze to Hal and the young man's face flushed. The Doctor started as he realized that, while the face he had searched for hadn't been in the portraits, there were traces of it here. _Those blue eyes_, the Doctor thought, _and that chin. The red in his hair..._

"I..." Hal started to answer Amy's question but fell silent as Lord Eckhart spoke over him, confirming the Doctor's belief.

"Young Hal is the queen's other son, by Lord Grist. They were married about a month after your... visit." Amy and Rory beamed at this news, but the Doctor's mind had raced on. As nice as it was to learn that Anne and Grist had married, there was trouble here.

"So," he said, looking at Hal, "who is trying to kill you?" Hal stared at him with wide eyes while the captain of the guards spluttered.

"How..."

"When your men hauled us up, they accused us of trying to murder the Lord High Steward. That's you?" Rory asked.

"Of course it's him," answered the Doctor. When Amy stared he sighed. "He had the authority to release us from the dungeon and he's protected by the royal guards, but he clearly isn't Arthur."

"I am the Lord High Steward," Hal confirmed.

"Young Hal has been charged with managing the kingdom in His Majesty's absence," Eckhart explained. "King Arthur had to go north, to deal with an invasion from Caledonia. Lord Grist went with him."

"And how long after Arthur's departure was the first assassination attempt?" asked the Doctor.

"It was about a week after he'd gone," Eckhart said. "Hal was riding and someone shot at him. If he hadn't leaned down to check his horse's leg at that moment..."

"How did you know there had been other attempts?" demanded the captain of the guards.

"The speed with which we were accused of attempting to assassinate the Lord High Steward was a clue," Rory said.

"Tell me about the next attempt. What form did it take?" asked the Doctor.

"Poison," Hal said. The Doctor couldn't decide if he sounded tired or bored. When he didn't elaborate, Eckhart spoke up.

"A supply of berries was poisoned," he explained. "If one of the cooks hadn't sampled the trifle they were preparing..." The older man shuddered.

"We questioned the kitchen servants, naturally, as well as the man who sold the fruit," put in the captain of the guards. "They were frightened, as to be expected, but none of them appeared guilty."

"The servants have all been part of the palace staff for many years," added Eckhart, "and quite loyal to the Queen Mother and now to the king."

"This explosion was the third attempt," continued the captain. "The Lord High Steward was to address the Parliament this afternoon. Fortunately the gunpowder was discovered in time for everyone to be warned away."

"But not in time to stop the explosion," Amy said. "Why was that?"

"There were multiple fuses and not sufficient time to trace them all," the captain answered stiffly. "We concentrated on evacuating those who had arrived early and protecting His Lordship."

"Quite right," added Eckhart.

"So," the Doctor asked, "who is behind all these attacks? Who wants you dead?" He was looking at Hal but it was Eckhart who answered.  
"We don't know, Doctor," he said.

"You have no ideas?" The Doctor kept his gaze locked on Hal. The young man shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable.

"No, I don't," he answered. There was a petulant note to his voice, as if he was annoyed at being asked the question.

"Hal's never gotten involved in politics," Eckhart said. "It's part of why Arthur felt he would be a good choice for Lord High Steward. There's no one in court holding a grudge against him."

"What about Anne's father?" asked Rory.

"Dead," answered Eckhart. "He ran afoul of the Caledonian queen and was killed, shortly before young Hal was born."

"He must have had his followers in the court," Rory said. Eckhart nodded.

"He did, and believe me, I kept a close watch on them for years. Their faction dissolved after Ormond's death though. They moved in different directions, some aligning with one group and others with another. Most of them are quite old now. I don't think they're a threat to anybody at this point."

"What about the other factions?" asked Amy.

"They are small and contentious. I can't see them getting along well enough to launch a conspiracy together. Certainly none of them are in a position to take on a popular ruler like Arthur."

"But Arthur's not here at the moment," pointed out Rory.

"Yes, that is true. Still, I can't see any of the factions being behind this, at least, not on their own. Perhaps with encouragement from a foreign power..."

"Does it really matter?" interrupted Hal. Everyone turned to stare at him and he continued. "Whoever it is hasn't a hope of succeeding now that you three are here." The Doctor saw Amy's eyes go wide and he didn't dare meet Rory's gaze.

"Hal..." he began.

"I am quite certain that you'll be able to put a stop to all of this very quickly," the young man continued. "Now, I hate to be rude, but I have a banquet to attend this evening and I must go and change. I ordered quarters to be prepared for you and those should be ready by now."

"Your Lordship, I don't know that the banquet..."

"Don't distress yourself, Captain Hesse. Of course the banquet must go on," said Eckhart. "We cannot allow whoever is behind these attempts to feel that he has frightened the Lord High Steward. I will take our guests to their quarters and see to it that they have something suitable to wear to this evening's festivities. You see to Hal... His Lordship."

"Very well," replied Hesse. He did not look pleased. He gave Eckhart a stiff bow before turning to escort Hal from the room. The Doctor watched them go, feeling sympathy for the captain. He wasn't feeling pleased himself. Hal's lack of concern about the attempts on his life had been baffling, and learning that he was certain that the presence of the Doctor, Amy, and Rory would stop any further assassination attempts was not reassuring. Worse, Eckhart's beaming face suggested that he shared the young man's faith. The Doctor looked at his wide grin and felt a knot forming in his stomach.

_**You know what to do. :)**_


	5. Chapter 4: Hal

Hal was anxious to reach his quarters. His head had been pounding all day and he was feeling chilled. He knew the headache was from the wine he'd consumed the night before, when he'd been seeking liquid courage to face having to address the Parliament the next day. He told himself that the chill was from the time in the dungeon, but he knew it was at least partly a reaction to the fact that someone had tried to kill him. _Again_, he thought, shuddering. Another tremor ran through him and he clenched his hands. If he was going to break down, he'd prefer to do it in the relative privacy of his chambers rather than in front of Captain Hesse.

"M'Lord?" Hal realized with a start that the captain was speaking to him. He glanced over at the older man, not daring to hold his gaze for fear that his feelings would be too easily read in his face.

"I'm sorry, Captain. Were you saying something?"

"I was asking if you wanted me to bring your secretary to you."

"My secretary?"

"Yes. The seating chart for the banquet tonight will need to be adjusted to accommodate the Doctor and his friends. I assume you'll want to consult with him about that."

"Oh. Of course." Hal sighed, rubbing his forehead as he thought. "Tell... tell my secretary he should consult with Lord Eckhart about the seating chart changes," he said finally.

"Yes, M'Lord." The captain's voice gave no hint as to his feelings but Hal cringed all the same. He really should speak with his secretary himself, but he didn't feel up to it at the moment. He wanted to retreat to his bed-chamber, curl up in his bed, and sleep until the would-be assassins were found and Arthur was back. He knew he couldn't do that, but at least he could steal an hour's time before he had to go to this banquet.

Hesse left him at his chambers, going off to see to the secretary while Hal went inside. He found two attendants waiting for him. One came forward to collect his gloves while the other asked if he wanted any refreshment. Hal didn't, but he also didn't want the man to hover. He sent him for a goblet of mulled wine and directed the other man to go and assist his dresser. Once they were gone, Hal moved across the room toward the fireplace. A fire was burning brightly and he stood before it, stretching out his shaking hands toward the warmth.

A few minutes in front of the fire helped ease some of the chill and Hal moved to a nearby chair, dragging over a footstool as he went. He put his feet up and sank back as far as the chair would allow, bracing his elbow against its arm and resting his aching head in his hand. He'd known it was foolish to drink so much wine the night before, but he'd been so nervous about the speech before Parliament. He gave a bitter chuckle at the thought. _Somehow speaking seems less frightening now that I've nearly been blown up. _

"M'Lord?" Hal lifted his head to find the servant had returned with his wine. He sat up a little straighter, reaching out to take it. He was relieved to see that his hands had stopped trembling.

"Thank you," he murmured, raising the goblet to his lips. He could feel the first swallow of wine as it went down, sending a pleasant warmth through him. He took another sip, feeling the chill dissipating further. He sank back in the chair, continuing to sip at the wine. After a few minutes, the pounding in his head lessened and he felt warm all the way through. He wanted to finish the wine and then go to his bed, but he knew his dresser would be fussing at him about changing for the banquet before long. With a sigh of regret, he returned the goblet to the attendant and got to his feet to go to his bed chamber.

He stopped in the doorway to stare. His bed was covered with clothing. His dresser had set out three different outfits. The tunics were jewel-toned and the black breeches were trimmed to match. There was a cape in a shimmering gold tone with red lining and there were three different hats made of soft cloth which matched the tunics, each festooned with a long black plume. The dresser was setting out boots when Hal came in.

Hal had thought choosing an outfit would be simple. He'd select a tunic and that would determine which breeches he should wear. He announced his intention to pass on the hat as he wouldn't be going out of doors and did the same with the cape. The dresser's face fell but he didn't protest. Hal changed clothing, waving away as much of the servant's help as he could, and sat down on the edge of the bed to put on boots. He thought he'd wear a simple black pair but instead he found that his dresser had three new pairs for him to choose from. He could feel his headache returning as the man pointed out heel heights, toe-shapes, and buckles. He finally chose the pair which seemed the simplest to him, but his relief was short-lived. There was an array of jewelry for him to choose from as well: necklaces of thick gold chain, brooches, rings, and even coronets. His head was throbbing by the time the servant reached the third coronet and he put up a hand, telling him he would not be wearing a coronet. The dresser pressed on the other jewelry choices and Hal, with a sigh of resignation, told him to choose what he felt would look best. He wound up wearing two rings, a brooch, and one of the heavy chain necklaces. When the dresser guided him over to a full-length mirror to see the finished result, Hal felt as if he was staring at a stranger. The emerald-green tunic was cut to make his shoulders look broader and his waist smaller. The snug breeches clung to the muscles in his legs and the thick soles of the boots added to his height. His hair had been brushed until it shone and light glinted off the gold of his jewelry. Even his face seemed changed, looking somehow thinner and older than he thought it would. He stared at it the longest, feeling his heart starting to pound, until the movement of his dresser behind him made him turn away from the mirror. The servant had gone back to the bed and begun to gather up the clothing from the bed. Hal moved away from the mirror, dropping onto the edge of a nearby chair. He didn't dare lean back out of fear of crushing the padding in the tunic; instead he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands (he was careful not to muss his hair). His heart was still thudding and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

_It's going to be all right now_, he told himself. _The Doctor is here now, with Amy and Rory. They can fix this. They helped to save Mother. They'll help you too._ He took another breath, feeling his heart slowing a little. _I just need to get through this banquet tonight. Then, in the morning, I can hand this over to the Doctor and his friends. They'll make it right. Arthur will come home shortly after that and everything can go back to the way it was._


	6. Chapter 5: Amy

Amy could only stare as Hal and Eckhart talked about getting ready for a banquet that evening. She wasn't sure if she felt more incredulous or offended at the way both men just assumed that the Doctor was going to solve all their problems. Of course the Doctor would do just that - she knew her Raggedy Man - but their taking it for granted this way made her temper flare. Captain Hesse didn't seem happy about the situation either, but the doubt in his face only made Amy feel angrier. It was all she could do to keep quiet as he escorted Hal from the room.

The second they were gone, Amy turned toward the others. She was ready to burst out with her thoughts on the whole situation, but the Doctor caught her eye. He gave a slight shake of his head. She stared but his expression remained firm so, with what seemed like a great effort, she bit back what she'd been about to say.

"I'll escort you to your quarters," Lord Eckhart told them. "They should be prepared by now."

"Thank you," the Doctor said. He fell into step with Eckhart as they moved toward the door. Rory glanced at Amy before following them. She went after him, quickening her steps once they reached the corridor so that she was walking beside him. Her mind was still racing and she paid little attention to her surroundings as they moved along a corridor, up a flight of stairs, and along another corridor. Eckhart stopped at a door which was about half-way down the corridor from the stairs.

"I hope you'll find these rooms comfortable," he said, reaching for the door handle. "I'm afraid our better guest quarters are already occupied. A delegation from Iberia arrived a few days ago. Tonight's banquet is in their honor." He motioned for them to go on into the room, stepping in behind them and closing the door.

The room was narrow and long, with a fireplace in the center of one long wall. There were two doors in the other long wall, with a large tapestry hanging between them. Light came from three narrow windows set in the wall opposite the door. There was a rectangular table with four chairs near the windows, and two large chairs as well as a bench in front of the fireplace. Though the fire was blazing, there was a slight chill in the air. Amy, Rory, and the Doctor moved closer to the fireplace, but Eckhart stayed back, watching them with a wide smile on his face.

"What is it?" Rory asked him.

"It's just... extraordinary to have you here, so unchanged from our last encounter," he replied, shaking his head. "I wish I could stay to talk with you more."

"No one's throwing you out," Amy said. _Yet_.

"I'm afraid I have duties elsewhere," Eckhart told her. "I will send clothing for you to wear tonight, and servants to assist you. I'm sure we'll see one another there, but I'm afraid we'll have to put off our catching up until tomorrow."

"But..." Amy began. The Doctor spoke over.

"Until tomorrow then, Lord Eckhart." Eckhart smiled and gave them a half-bow, which the Doctor returned. Amy stared as the older man walked out the door before turning back to her companions.

"This is ridiculous," she said. "Someone's trying to kill their leader and all they can think about is some silly banquet."

"They're welcoming a foreign delegation," replied the Doctor. "That's not the sort of thing you can just put off."

"So now you're an expert on diplomacy?"

"I'm an expert on a lot of things."

"Doctor..."

"I think what Amy's saying is, these people are acting like you can just... wave your sonic screwdriver and solve all their problems," Rory said, speaking up before Amy could get going. "You can't."

"Well, strictly speaking, they expect that _we_ can help them. You two were as much a part of those bedtime stories as I was."

"But, it's ridiculous," Amy protested.

"In fairness, it's kind of what he does," Rory said.

"It's what _we_ do," corrected the Doctor.

"Fine," Amy said, shaking her head. "How are we supposed to do that?"

"We start by observing," the Doctor answered. "I would expect that anyone important at court would be at the banquet tonight."

"So we go to watch and listen," said Rory, looking over at Amy. She sighed and nodded.

"Fine, but I doubt any of them are going to say 'gee, it's too bad Hal wasn't caught in that explosion today.'"

"Only if he is the world's worst conspirator," agreed Rory.

"Or she," said the Doctor, looking thoughtful. "Poison is a woman's weapon."

"Oi," protested Amy. "There have been plenty of male poisoners too."

"I think we're getting ahead of ourselves," put in Rory. "We haven't met any of our potential suspects yet." Amy was about to respond when there was a knock on the door from the hall. They all turned to look at it before glancing at one another.

"Come in," the Doctor called after a second's silent consultation. The door swung open and three people came in, two men and a woman, each carrying a bundle of clothing. The two men gave half-bows while the woman dipped in a curtsey. All three of them wore dark blue clothing, the men in tunic and breeches while the woman wore a dress. There was white trim on the clothing and the woman wore a white cap which resembled a small bonnet. The first man was short and round, with pudgy hands and sagging jowls. His little blue eyes widened, just barely, as he got his first look at them.

"We have brought you clothing for this evening," he said, his voice squeaking a little, "and are here to assist you in preparing. I am Humphrey, and my companions are Mina and Jaron." He gestured to them with one pudgy hand. Jaron and Mina were younger than Humphrey, and much slimmer. Jaron's eyes were dark while Mina's were blue, but there was enough of a resemblance between them to make Amy wonder if they were siblings. Jaron's hair was golden blonde and she saw a matching tendril escaping from beneath Mina's cap as the girl came closer.

Amy and Mina went to one of the bedrooms, while the Doctor, Rory, Humphry and Jaron went to the other. The room held a large four-poster bed with curtains tied-back, a heavy oak dresser, a dressing table with chair, an armoire, and a full-length mirror in an oak frame. Mina carried the bundle of clothing over to the bed and Amy followed her.

"What all do you have there?" she asked, nodding at the pile. It seemed too thick to be just one outfit, but as Mina began to lift up items for her inspection, she realized it really was. There was a dress of dark green silk, a chemise and drawers, a corset, and numerous petticoats. Amy stared at it all, wondering how she'd be able to move while wearing all of it. When she spoke her concern aloud, Mina laughed.

"It's all very light-weight, Mistress Pond," she said. "Look, I'm wearing the same sorts of things and I'm having no difficulty." She took a step back from the bed and twirled around, her arms out at her side. "See?"

"All right," Amy answered, still not convinced. "I guess we'd better get started then."

It took surprisingly little time to get into the clothing. The greatest difficulty was caused by the corset (the laces needed adjusted to suit Amy's form). When they were finished, Amy stepped over to the mirror and stared. The cut of the gown, coupled with the petticoats and the corset, gave her an hourglass figure. It was a narrow hourglass, to be sure, but it was there. The gown's square neckline had worried her, but thanks to the corset's padding, she actually had cleavage. It was a stunning transformation.

"Wow," she murmured. Mina stepped up behind her, beaming.

"You look lovely," she said. "But we aren't quite finished yet."

"Hm?"

"Your hair needs arranging. Come." Mina steered Amy toward the dressing table, holding the chair while she sat. Amy watched as the young woman brushed her hair, dividing it into sections. One section was coiled into a low bun on the nape of her neck. The other two were each braided, then looped over the top of her head, with the ends hidden in the bun. Mina placed several pins topped with gold stars in the braid.

"There," she said, slipping the last pin into place. "Finished. What do you think?"

"It looks amazing," Amy said, leaning forward as much as the corset would allow to stare. For a disconcerting second she felt as if it was someone else staring back at her from the mirror, but she quickly shook off the feeling. This was just like getting costumed and made-up for a photo shoot. She was still Amy underneath it all. She sat back, smiling at the thought of how Rory might react. The thought of his reaction reminded her that he and the Doctor were also being changed. She wondered what sort of clothing they were donning. Grinning in anticipation, she got to her feet.

**_And now back to you, Readers! _ **


	7. Chapter 6: Rory

Changing into Umbrian clothes didn't take long. Rory didn't care for the tight breeches but he consoled himself with the thought that at least they weren't a skirt. He was given a red tunic to wear over his black breeches, while the one handed to the Doctor was blue. There were white shirts which went on under the tunics, and tall socks to wear beneath the breeches. He was expecting the Doctor to protest changing clothes, but aside from a grimace as he removed his bow-tie, he made no complaint. They stood on either side of a four-poster bed to dress, with their attendants hovering near the foot of it. There wasn't anything for them to do and after a few minutes, Humphrey sent Jaron off to find boots for Rory and the Doctor. The younger man took one of each of their shoes to use for sizing.

The only complication arose after they were dressed. Humphrey wanted to brush their hair, a procedure which made Rory feel uncomfortably like a doll. He tolerated it for a minute before declaring that was good enough and vacated the chair at the room's dressing table. The Doctor took the seat and Humphrey reached for a fresh brush. He only made one stroke before the Time Lord yelped in pain, reminding Rory of the wound on the back of his head. Humphrey jumped back, looking horrified, and began to apologize.

"I am so sorry, Sir! I didn't mean to be so clumsy! Please forgive me!" The Doctor turned in his chair.

"It's not your fault," he said. "I forgot. I have a... bump on my head. I should have warned you."

"I forgot too," Rory admitted, feeling sheepish. "I'd better take a look at it. We haven't even cleaned it yet." He moved over to the chair and the Doctor turned back around, lowering his chin to his chest as Rory parted the hair on the back of his head carefully. He was relieved to see that the cut wasn't bleeding. The skin around it was pink and tender to the touch, but there was very little swelling. Jaron was sent out again, to fetch water and cloth, and Rory cleaned the cut. Humphrey finished the hair-brushing, working carefully to avoid the wound, and then nodded his satisfaction that they were ready. They slipped on the boots Jaron had brought and returned to the outer chamber to wait for Amy.

Rory expected to have a long wait for Amy, but to his surprise she emerged from the other bedroom a few minutes later. He stared as she came toward them, feeling his breath catching in his throat. She was dressed in a dark green silk gown, with a low, square neckline and long, bell-shaped sleeves. The long skirt nearly hid her feet, making it seem as if she was floating across the floor. Her hair was up, with a braid festooned with small gold stars wrapped around the crown of her head. She looked like a fairy-tale princess.

"Do you like?" she asked, twirling on the spot so that her skirts flared out. She stopped after one revolution, beaming at them, and Rory thought she'd never looked lovelier. He wished he had his camera phone with him but he'd left it in the bedroom with his clothes.

"Very fancy, Pond," the Doctor said, smiling at Amy. Rory nodded his agreement.

"You look wonderful," he said, his voice husky. He cleared his throat and continued. "Like a princess."

"Thank you," Amy said, stepping over to him and linking her arm with his. "Now, how do we get to this party?" She looked over to the servants, who had gathered together near the door to the corridor. Humphrey spoke up.

"Lord Eckhart will collect you," he said. "He should be along any time. If you have no further need of us now, we will go. We'll return at the end of the evening."

"Thank you," the Doctor said, glancing at Amy and Rory. "I think we're all right now."

"Yes, thanks," Amy added, smiling at Mina. The girl smiled back, dipping in a quick curtsey before turning toward the door. Humphry and Jaron bowed before following her, closing the door behind them.

Once they were gone, Amy turned to stare at the Doctor.

"You changed clothes," she said.

"Yes."

"You're not wearing your bow-tie." She arched a brow and looked to Rory. "Did he give it up willingly, or did you three have to fight him for it?"

"He took it off willingly," Rory answered, frowning. A bow-tie didn't seem like much to base suspicions on, but this was the Doctor.

"What are you up to?" Amy asked the Time Lord. The Doctor's eyes widened but he didn't quite meet her gaze.

"Nothing," he said. "I just thought we'd... blend in this evening."

"You don't blend," Amy objected. "You stand out, attract attention, stir things up."

"We're going to this banqet to observe," the Doctor retorted. "We can do that better if we don't stand out." Rory started to nod his agreement, but Amy's frown deepened.

"You're being cautious. You're never cautious."

"There's a first time for everything," murmured the Doctor. Rory wanted to ask him if there was a special reason why he was choosing caution now, but a knock on the door stopped him. The Doctor called out for the person to enter, and Lord Eckhart stepped into the room.

"Ah good! You're ready," he said, smiling as he came toward them. "The clothing all fit then." Rory glanced at Amy and then the Doctor before answering.

"Yeah. Yeah, they're fine."

"They suit you very well," Eckhart said, his eyes lingering on Amy. "You are a vision, Mistress Pond."

"Thank you," she replied.

"Who are we supposed to be at this banquet?" asked Rory. Eckhart looked over at him, his eyes widening. "If you wanted the assassins to know that we were here to stop them, it'd be more effective if we looked like ourselves."

"That's true," Eckhart replied. "Unfortunately, that would only work if the would-be assassins knew of you."

"What do you mean?" asked Amy. "I thought we were famous, being Hal's favorite bedtime story and all."

"Yes and no. Many people know that three strangers from another world visited us, but only those in the queen's inner circle know of your heroics. Her Majesty didn't feel it would be wise to reveal to the entire court what her father had attempted to do."

"So she couldn't tell them what we did either," finished Rory.

"Exactly."

"Then how are we supposed to protect Hal?" asked Amy.

"It isn't our usual method," murmured the Doctor.

"But it could work to our advantage," pointed out Rory. The Time Lord looked over at him. "At least we won't be targets." The Doctor's frown deepened.

"Isn't that a good thing?" asked Eckhart.

"The Doctor has a habit of making himself a target," replied Amy. "Looks like you don't get to this time."

"So, who are we supposed to be then?" asked Rory, returning to his original question.

"I've put about a story that you are distant cousins to the Queen Mother, come to court as Hal's guests," answered Eckhart. "The fact that this is your first time at court will help to excuse any breeches of etiquette, and the fact that you are distant cousins to Hal and the Queen Mother will give you standing despite your lack of titles."

"And what names did you give us?" asked Amy.

"Your own, mostly. You are Amelia du Pond, and Rory is your husband, of course."

"And the Doctor?"

"At the moment, we've put about only that you traveled with an eccentric family physician."

"Smith," said the Doctor. "Call me John Smith."

"That's an odd name," replied Eckhart, "but if it's what you wish."

"I'm used to it."

"Very well then. That's the name we shall use. Now, we really should be going. The banquet will begin soon."


	8. Chapter 7: The Doctor

The banquet hall was old. The Doctor could feel it as he crossed the threshold. There were new fixtures - the tables and chairs were all relatively recent - but the stones were old. The floor had been worn smooth by the boots of kings and queens over at least a half-century, and no amount of scrubbing could remove all of the soot from around the fireplaces which sat at either end of the room. The most interesting feature of the room, to the Doctor's eye, were the columns which supported the balcony that wrapped around the outside of the room. They were shaped to resembled trees, complete with intricately painted bark. They seemed out-of-place and he supposed they were a hold over from a previous style of decoration. He wondered what might be hidden behind the large tapestries and paintings which adorned the walls now. He passed close by one of the columns on his way to his seat and reached out to touch it, smiling at the feel of it beneath his hand. He started to lean closer and stopped himself. As much as he'd like to know more about the stone, licking the column would probably attract too much attention. They were supposed to be blending in, acting like Umbrians. With a sigh of regret, he continued on to his seat. Perhaps there'd be a chance to explore the hall later.

There were three tables in the room, arranged in the shape of a u. The table at the bottom of the u was where the king, or in this instance, the Lord High Steward, sat. The center seat was a large, throne-like chair covered in velvet cushions. The other chairs were smaller and the amount of cushioning grew less and less the further from the throne you sat. The Doctor, Rory, and Eckhart were on one side of the U, about half-way along the table. They each had a thin cushion on the seat of their chair and another at their back.

The women were all on the balcony. The section just behind and above the throne was empty, but there was a long table set on either side above the sides of the u where the women would dine. Eckhart had explained, much to Amy's displeasure, that it was a tradition for the women to dine in the balcony so long as the king was unmarried. Amy hadn't taken the news that she'd be separated from Rory and the Doctor well. She'd started to complain, until Rory gently reminded her that they were trying to blend in as Umbrians. She'd relented but she hadn't stopped sulking until she met Lady Cecily.

Eckhart's sister was short and plump, with pale blonde hair coiled up on the back of her head. She was charming and good-humored, with dark eyes that sparkled when she smiled. Eckhart had explained that she was in his confidence and knew who they were. She'd been pleased at the chance to meet them and it had only taken a few minutes for her to set all of them at ease. She and Amy had gone in to the balcony arm-in-arm, with Amy leaning toward the shorter woman to hear what she was saying. Once they'd gone, Eckhart had led Rory and the Doctor down to the main level and into the hall. He'd guided them to their seats, settling Rory on his right and the Doctor to his left. They were waiting now, watching as the last of the people came in to take their places.

The banquet hall was awash with color, on both the main level and in the balcony. Men and women wore clothes of jewel-toned silk and velvet, and the gleam of gemstones and gold was everywhere. The women ranged in age from their late teens to their late sixties, so far as the Doctor could judge. There wasn't nearly so much variety in the age of the men; there were a few who looked to be of an age with Hal, but most of them were closer to Eckhart's. The tone of conversation seemed relaxed and casual, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the crowd. They were anticipating something, but weren't sure whether it would be enjoyable or not. When he commented on this, Eckhart explained.

"This banquet is to welcome a delegation from Iberia to court," he said, his voice quiet. "This is the first time they've sent one since King Henry eloped with Anne."

"Because the princess he was supposed to marry was Iberian, wasn't she?" murmured Rory from Eckhart's other side. The man nodded.

"Everyone wants to see how the Iberians will behave. Are they genuine in their desire for friendship with Umbria, or is this some sort of trick? There is a long history of distrust between our two nations, going back almost a century. It was hoped by many that the marriage between Henry and Catherine would put an end to that, but when the wedding didn't take place, things became much worse."

"Then this is a big night for Hal," said the Doctor.

"There will not be much for him to do on this first evening," Eckhart replied. "Tonight will be a celebration. There will be musicians, tumblers, bards, and dancers performing throughout the evening. The Iberians are noted for their dancers and I'm particularly looking forward to their performance."

"So it's dinner and a show," said Rory. Eckhart looked confused for a second before nodding.

"I suppose that's one way of putting it. It should be a very enjoyable evening."

"Provided no one tries to kill Hal." Rory's voice was quiet but Eckhart's eyes widened in alarm. The Doctor put a hand on his shoulder and smiled broadly.

"Relax," he said softly. "No one's paying attention to us but if you start looking around in a panic, they're bound to notice."

"Of course," Eckhart replied, sinking back in his chair with a forced chuckle. "I should know better after all these years at court."

"It's understandable that you'd be on edge," the Doctor assured him.

"Sorry," added Rory.

"No harm's been done, either through your words or my over-reaction," answered Eckhart. He sighed heavily. "These past few weeks have been trying, but I am confident that, with you here to help, all will be well in the end."

"Tell us about Hal," the Doctor suggested. "What's he like?"

"As a boy he was devoted to his brother. The two of them were nearly inseparable, despite the differences in their ages and standing."

"It must have been difficult for Hal at times," said Rory. "Always in his brother's shadow."

"I suppose there must have been some difficult moments," replied Eckhart, "but Queen Anne and Lord Grist were dedicated parents, and Arthur was always generous."

"And was it generosity which prompted Arthur to make Hal Lord High Steward?" asked the Doctor. Eckhart frowned.

"I don't think I know what you mean," he said.

"I think the Doctor's just wondering why Hal?" said Rory, looking anxious. "What made the king choose him to leave in charge of the kingdom while he was away? I know you said he hadn't been politically active, but surely that wasn't the only reason."

"I'm afraid I can't answer that," Eckhart replied, looking away to stare across the room. Rory caught the Doctor's eye and arched a brow. The Time Lord sat back in his chair to think. Eckhart's response to his question was interesting. He clearly hadn't liked having to admit that he wasn't aware of Arthur's reasoning for appointing Hal Lord High Steward. The young king had made his decision without consulting his mother's former captain of the guards. Eckhart had shown a paternal, verging on patronizing, attitude toward Hal. The Doctor couldn't imagine a king, particularly a young king new to his throne, tolerating such an attitude from a subordinate, even if that man was a good friend of his mother and step-father.

Eckhart nudged the Doctor and he realized that the room had fallen silent while he was musing. Everyone was getting to their feet now and he followed suit, turning to follow the crowd's gaze. Hal had entered the room and was approaching his seat. Another man walked beside him. He was nearly a head taller than Hal, with shoulder-length black hair swept back from his face. His prominent widow's peak, small eyes, and aquiline nose gave him a hawk-like appearance. His gaze swept the room as he walked and from time to time his thin lips lifted in what was probably meant to be a smile.

"The Iberian ambassador, Count Arasand," Eckhart murmured. The Doctor nodded but kept his eyes on Hal and his guest as they came to a stop in front of their chairs at the head table. Hal was richly dressed but the heavy tunic only served to emphasize his slightness, particularly in contrast the the Count. His cheeks were flushed but when he spoke, his voice was steady.

"It is my great pleasure," he said, "to welcome Count Arasand and his party to our court on behalf of my brother, King Arthur. I know that His Majesty is disappointed not to be here himself, but he has every confidence that we will make our Iberians friends welcome. Now, let us sit and break bread with our friends." He gestured toward the seat next to his and the Count, with a half-bow to Hal, sat. The young man followed suit, lifting a small loaf of bread from the plate in front of him and offering it to the Count. The man tore off a hunk and the members of the court clapped politely as they resumed their seats.

The Doctor lost count of how many courses were served. There was bread, fish, some sort of mashed vegetable reminiscent of turnips, a ham-like meat, some kind of game hen, an assortment of berries, and some cheeses. All of it was accompanied by a wide array of wines. Hal didn't eat much of the food, but he did consume a good deal of the wine. His face grew more and more flushed as the evening progressed, and Eckhart grew more and more tense each time Hal's goblet was refilled.


	9. Chapter 8: Hal

Hal could feel his heart beating faster as he neared the corridor outside the banquet hall. He was to meet the Iberian ambassador there. They'd have a few minutes to greet one another before going into the hall to start the festivities. He'd been coached on this meeting over the past few weeks but as the moment drew closer, he began to fear he wouldn't remember it all. The protocol for the banquet had been carefully laid out, the result of hours of discussions between high-ranking Umbrians and their Iberian counterparts. No one on either side had wanted to leave anything to chance. _It should be Arthur here_, Hal thought. _He wouldn't have needed all the coaching to know what to do. If I mess this up... _He pushed the notion away, swallowing around a lump in his throat. He was nearly there.

Hal's alarm increased as he finally neared the banquet hall entrance. The ambassador, Count Arasand, was standing with a young blonde woman. _Oh no! Who is she? Has he brought his wife? But surely someone explained the tradition! What am I going to do if they didn't? _Hal's steps slowed as he drew nearer and he scanned the small cluster of people waiting for him, hoping to gain a clue to what was happening from the expressions of the Umbrians in the group. Those he saw looked calm, some verging on bored, and he took this to mean there was nothing to worry him.

"Count Arasand," he said, stepping up to the tall Iberian, "it is my pleasure to welcome you to Umbria on behalf of my brother, King Arthur." The count stared down at him for a second before making a sweeping bow.

"It is an honor to be here, Lord High Steward," he said as he rose. His accent was noticeable, but not so heavy that he was difficult to understand. Hal nodded in acknowledgement of his words. The count was richly dressed, in a silk tunic of red and gold over black doublet and hose. There were rings on several of his fingers, the gold and gemstones glinting in the candle-light. His black hair was streaked with silver and worn long, reaching almost to his shoulders. His narrow face and beak-like nose gave him a permanently sneering expression, which was only made worse when he stretched his thin lips in a smile.

"Please," the Count continued, "allow me to present to you my wife." He motioned the slight woman forward. She was very pale, with blonde hair coiled up on her head and wide brown eyes. She dropped into a curtsey immediately and when she rose she kept her gaze down-cast.

"Welcome to Umbria, Countess," Hal said. She glanced at him for a second before looking to her husband. For a second Hal had the impression that she was afraid, though of which of them he couldn't say.

"We understand you have a tradition of men and women dining separately so long as your king is unmarried," Arasand said. "One of my men will escort my wife to the balcony now."

"Of course," Hal replied. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Countess." The woman nodded to him before turning to go. One of the Iberian men fell into step with her as they started for the staircase to the balcony. Hal watched them for a moment, struggling to think of what else to say to the Count. Suddenly the hours of coaching didn't seem like enough.

"I... I trust your journey here was comfortable," he tried at last.

"It was tolerable," Arasand answered, sounding bored. "Your countryside is very... green." Hal fought back a laugh at the comment. Surely the ambassador wasn't offended because Umbria was green?

"Well, it's spring."

"I had not realized the change of seasons would be so much later here. In Iberia our crops are already growing but here you barely have anything sprouted."

"I understand it does not grow warm here as quickly as it does in Iberia."

"That would seem to be the case," Arasand said.

"I trust your chambers are warm enough."

"So long as the fires are kept going we should be comfortable."

"There should be no difficulty in making sure that they are," Hal replied. He was relieved to see the herald approaching. The man stopped a few feet from them and bowed before speaking.

"It is time, M'Lord, if you and the Count are ready."

"Very good." Hal looked to Arasand. "Are you ready?"

"Of course," the Iberian replied.

A hush fell over the banquet hall when they entered and Hal was well aware of every eye turning toward them as they approached their seats. The head table was seated with a mix of high-ranking Umbrians and Iberians. The other two tables were filled with more Umbrians and Hal spotted Eckhart about half-way down it, with Rory seated on one side of him and the Doctor on the other. He supposed Amy was up in the balcony somewhere and he wondered how she'd taken the news that she couldn't dine on the main floor and who she'd been seated with. He didn't dare look up to spot her for fear he'd miss a step and trip.

The men reached the table without incident and Hal made the prescribed speech of welcome. The symbolic breaking of bread was applauded and he breathed a sigh of relief. His performance was over. The entertainers would start their work soon and surely that would draw everyone's eyes away from him. It would also give him something safe to talk about with Arasand. He glanced over at the count and saw that the man was leaning away from him, listening closely to what the man on his other side was saying. Both men were chuckling and Hal had the uncomfortable feeling that they were mocking him. He looked away, feeling his face warm.

The servers brought the first course out, followed by attendants with wine. Hal reached for his wine first, hoping it would settle his nerves. By the time he turned his attention to his plate, many of the men around him were already finished eating. The servers couldn't clear the course or bring out the next until he indicated he was done so he took a few quick bites and motioned for them to go ahead. The servers went to work and the attendants came around to refill the wine goblets. The pattern continued through the next courses, with Hal only managing a few bites of his food, and by the time the fruit and cheese were brought out, he was feeling light-headed.

The performers up until this point had all been Umbrian - musicians, tumblers, and bards - but the last group to appear was a pair of dancers from Iberia. Hal watched as the man and woman moved toward the center of the u of tables. They were both dressed in white. The man's tunic and breeches clung to him, showing off the muscles in his legs and arms. The woman's dress was in the conventional style - a square neckline, long sleeves, and a full skirt - but the fabric of her sleeves and skirts was sheer. A hush fell over the room as the pair turned to face one another.

The dance began slowly. The dancers circled one another, their eyes locked on one another. Slowly they came closer and closer, until at last the man reached out to catch the woman's waist. The tempo increased as they moved together now, their steps quick and light. They passed the head table and for a moment the woman's eyes met Hal's. He thought he saw her lips curve in a smile but then she twirled away. He stared after her, unable to take his eyes off of her. Her eyes were a deep green and her lips were a soft pink. There were white flowers pinned to her gleaming black hair and he thought he'd caught a whiff of their scent as she spun away.

"She's very beautiful, is she not?" murmured Arasand. Hal swallowed and nodded.

"Yes."

"If you would care to meet her, I can arrange it." Hal glanced over at the count, uncertain of exactly what the man was offering. The count smiled, his dark eyes gleaming. "It would be fitting to congratulate her on her performance, would it not?"

"I... I suppose it would," Hal replied, looking back to the dancers. "Yes. I think I would like that."


	10. Chapter 9: Amy

_**Happy Mother's Day everyone! **_

Amy woke up early. Rory was snoring away next to her, one arm draped across her. They'd both sunk toward the center of the too-soft mattress and getting out of it was a struggle. She briefly considered giving up and sinking back in to doze a little longer, but her bladder protested at the idea and she kept going. The wooden floor of the room was cold beneath her feet and she looked for the slippers Mina had given her the night before. A robe was draped over a chair beside the bed and she slipped it on over her thin nightdress before starting across the room. She'd learned the night before that there was a small room off of the bed-chamber which served as a bathroom. It was a far cry from indoor plumbing - water for bathing still had to be carried in - but Mina had explained that there were drainage pipes to carry used water, and other waste, away. Amy had been impressed.

Once she finished in the bathroom, Amy returned to the bedroom. Rory was still snoring away in the bed and she stopped beside the bed to study him. She didn't have many chances to watch him like this; at home he was nearly always awake before her. He was sprawled across the center of the bed, one arm stretched out over the place she'd occupied. One bare ankle poked out from beneath the quilt and she smiled, remembering his reaction when they'd both been presented with nightshirts to wear.

"So much for avoiding a skirt," he'd muttered, holding up the shirt and frowning at it.

"It's more like a dress, actually," she'd answered.

"That is not helping."

"Mmm. I was a bit disappointed that you weren't in a skirt, actually. I like seeing a bit of leg now and again."

"Oh really? Tell me more, Mrs. Williams." Rory had tossed his nightshirt onto the bed and moved closer to her. He'd tugged her own shirt from her hands and thrown it aside before snaking his arms around her waist. She smiled, her face warming at the thought of what had followed. Rory had been very... stimulated. Her smile dimmed a bit as she thought back to earlier in the evening.

The final performance at the banquet had been a pair of dancers from Iberia. The moment they stepped into place below, Amy had felt the atmosphere in the room change. She'd leaned forward a little to see and realized that most of the other women were doing the same. The dancers were both dressed in white and at first glance, the style of their clothing seemed to match what everyone else was wearing. After taking a closer look, however, Amy could see that the man's outfit was far more form-fitting than what any of the other men were wearing, and the woman's dress featured sheer sleeves and skirts, revealing the shape of her arms and giving a glimpse of her legs as well when she moved.

All of that had apparently been scandalous, but things grew worse when the dance began. The opening moves were something like a tango, slow and sensuous, but as the dance progressed things grew more intense. The couple moved faster, and the female dancer was frequently draped around her male partner. More than a glimpse of her legs was revealed and Amy wondered how she managed to keep from spilling out of her tight-fitting bodice during some of the moves. The women on the balcony gasped once or twice, but the men below sat in transfixed silence. Amy wouldn't have been surprised to find half of them panting in excitement as they watched the performance. When the dancers stopped, the room was silent save for the Doctor. He began to applaud at once but his clapping slowed as he realized no one else was joining in. Amy quickly lifted her hands, as did Lady Cecily beside her, and after a few seconds the rest of the crowd joined them. The dancers made their bows and retreated.

Amy started at the sound of the door creaking. She looked over to see Mina peeking in from the outer chamber.

"Miss? What are you doing?"

"I... I was just thinking," Amy answered.

"Would you like me to help you get dressed? Your friend is already awake and out here." She gestured toward the outer chamber. Amy nodded, not surprised to learn that the Doctor was awake. He rarely slept and she wondered how he'd passed the night.

"Ok," she said. "I guess I might as well get dressed."

The dress Mina had brought for her wasn't as fancy as the one she'd worn to the banquet, but she had the same amount of underpinnings, as the young servant called them, to don. Rory snored through the whole process, from chemise and drawers to corset to petticoats to dress. Mina fixed her hair again, this time parting it in the center, lifting the sides with small silver combs, and coiling its length into a bun on the nape of her neck. Rory stirred as she was working and by the time the last pin was in place, he was sitting up in bed and watching. Amy met his eyes in the mirror and smiled.

"'Bout time you woke up."

"I had a long night. Someone kept me up." He grinned at her and Amy laughed even as her face grew warm. Mina gave her a knowing smile.

"If there's nothing else at the moment, Miss..."

"I'm all good, thanks."

"Very well." Mina bobbed a curtsey and left. Amy turned on the bench to look directly at Rory. He frowned at her.

"What?" she asked.

"You're all... dressed."

"Well, it _is_ morning."

"I know." He sighed.

"The Doctor's awake already."

"Does he ever sleep?" Rory grunted out the words as he struggled to extricate himself from the mattress. Amy got up and moved to meet him at the edge of the bed, holding out a hand. He caught it and tugged her toward him. She just managed to catch herself before she fell into him.

"It's morning," she repeated.

"I know." He pouted and with a laugh, she leaned forward to brush his lips in a light kiss.

"I'm going to go check on the Doctor and see about breakfast," she said, releasing his hand and turning toward the door.

The Doctor was sitting in front of the fire, staring at a book in his lap. Like her, he was dressed in Umbrian clothing, and she bit back a smile as he reached for his missing bow-tie.

"Morning," she said, stepping up to look over his shoulder. "Whatcha reading?" For a second the lettering on the page was a mass of strange squiggles. Then her vision seemed to clear and the words were recognizable.

"It's a history of the early kings and queens of Umbria."

"Interesting?" She moved around to stand in front of him.

"Arthur's father was the seventh king to be named Henry. The first went mad, mistaking a tree for the Gauline ambassador. The third was forced off the throne by his brother. The fourth..."

"Doctor, what does any of that have to do with figuring out who's trying to kill Hal?"

"Nothing. Everything. I don't really know, but it was interesting." The Doctor got to his feet, setting the book in the chair before pacing across the room toward the windows.

"Doctor..."

"Why Hal?" The Doctor turned, his hands in his hair.

"What?"

"Why did Arthur name Hal Lord High Steward?"

"You asked Eckhart that last night." Rory's voice came from the bedroom doorway. "He said he didn't know, and he didn't like having to admit it."

"Ssh ssh ssh!" The Doctor sprang back toward them, one finger raised to his lips. Amy frowned.

"What..." She stopped, understanding dawning as she watched the Doctor. He looked in each bedroom before moving to the hall to poke his head out.

"We're alone, for the moment," he said as he stepped back inside. He motioned for Amy and Rory to follow him as he moved to stand beneath the windows, as far from the hall door as possible. Amy could feel her heart start to pound. This was not good. Rory's words confirmed her fears.

"You think _Eckhart_ is the one who's been trying to kill Hal?"

"There must be a reason why Arthur chose Hal to be Steward and not Eckhart," replied the Doctor.

"But he's the one who asked us to help."

"That would be a good way to remove suspicion from himself," Amy said.

"You've been reading too many mystery novels," Rory told her.

"It's been twenty years, give or take. People change."

"Not Eckhart. I don't believe it." Rory folded his arms over his chest, scowling at Amy and the Doctor. After a moment, the Doctor sighed.

"No. I don't either. He would gain nothing from Hal's death." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"So who would benefit from Hal's death?" Amy asked. "What happens if he dies? Is there a... vice-Steward or something?" The Doctor snapped his fingers and pointed at her.

"That is what we need to find out."

"Amongst other things," said Rory. "Doctor, the TARDIS..."

"I told you, the TARDIS is fine."

"But she is buried in rubble."

"They're working to dig her out. Well, they're working to clear the rubble, but that amounts to practically the same thing." The Doctor turned away, muttering to himself.

"Great. Any idea how long that's going to take?"

"What does it matter how long it takes?" Amy asked. "We're not going anywhere until we figure out who's trying to kill Hal and stop him."

"What if we can't? What if the assassin succeeds and Hal dies? I just think it would be good if we had a way out of here, in case something... goes wrong."

"Rory..."

"He's not infallible, Amy." Rory's voice was quiet and he shot a glance at the Doctor as he spoke. Amy opened her mouth to protest and a knock sounded on the door. They both turned toward it in time to see Mina and Jaron coming into the room. They each carried a large tray full of covered dishes. Humphrey followed behind them.

"Breakfast will be served momentarily," he announced.


	11. Chapter 10: Rory

Rory had hoped to talk with Amy and the Doctor over breakfast, reviewing what they might have noticed at the banquet and making plans for how they were going to go forward with their investigations today. He also wanted to talk to the Doctor about the importance of recovering the TARDIS. Unfortunately the servants remained to wait on them and he didn't feel comfortable having either discussion in front of them. Apparently Amy and the Doctor shared those sentiments because conversation was limited to discussions of the food they were being served, with the Doctor asking Humphrey several questions about it.

Rory hoped they might get to talk when Jaron and Mina began to clear away the empty dishes, but Humphrey lingered. Rory was ready to order the man to leave when there was a knock on the door. Humphrey went to answer it, returning a moment later with something in his hand. He offered it to Amy.

"A note for you, Mistress DuPond."

"Thank you." Amy took what proved to be a folded piece of paper, held closed with a blob of sealing wax. After fumbling with it for a second, she finally used a clean butter knife to slit the seal and unfolded the paper.

"It's a note," she said as she scanned the page. "From Lady Cecily. We are all invited to take tea with her this afternoon."

"That's nice." The Doctor didn't look up from his plate, where he was pushing around his portion of the potato-like vegetables that had been part of their breakfast.

"She also wonders if I might like to spend the day with her."

"That sounds like a good idea," the Doctor said.

"But what about our... project?" asked Rory.

"I'm sure Lady Cecily can help with that. She knows nearly everyone at court. She can tell me about them."

"Shall I fetch you writing materials, Mistress, so you can answer?" asked Humphrey.

"Yes, please." Amy waited until the man had gone before continuing. "This will help with our investigations."

"What are the Doctor and I supposed to do while you're off with Lady Cecily?" asked Rory. "We need to make a plan, figure out who we should talk to..."

"We need to keep Hal safe too," Amy said.

"Yes. We can't just..."

"Why don't you spend the morning with him? Maybe he can tell you who he thinks is behind all this."

"That's an excellent idea," said the Doctor. Rory frowned.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Oh, this and that. Poke around a bit."

"Doctor..." There was a warning note in Amy's voice.

"Don't worry. I'll blend," the Doctor told her. Amy looked skeptical but the Time Lord held her gaze and after a moment she shook her head.

"All right. We can compare notes at tea this afternoon."

"I don't..." Rory bit back the rest of his sentence as Humphrey rejoined them. She waived away the paper and pen he offered.

"On second thought, why don't I just go with the messenger?" she asked, getting to her feet. Humphrey looked shocked but quickly recovered.

"I... I suppose you could."

"All right then." Amy started for the door and Rory got up to go after her.

"Amy, wait."

"What?" she asked, turning to face him.

"I... I don't think splitting up like this is a good idea."

"Don't be silly. We can cover more ground this way." Amy leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek before turning back for the door. He watched her go with a feeling of trepidation.

A short time later, Rory headed out the door and started toward Hal's quarters. The Doctor had followed Humphrey out a few minutes after Amy left, chattering about seeing the kitchens. It was clear the servant thought he was odd but was willing to humor him. Rory had paced the room for a few minutes, still uneasy about the three of them splitting up this way, before he'd decided there was nothing for it but to go see Hal.

Rory's doubts increased as he neared the Steward's quarters. He was fairly certain he'd be allowed in, but he didn't know if he'd accomplish anything talking to the young man. Hal had appeared almost bored when talking about the previous assassination attempts, and he'd seemed certain that the arrival of the Doctor, Amy, and Rory meant all his problems were solved. Rory told himself there had to be more to the young man than what he'd seen so far. Surely Arthur wouldn't have chosen someone dim-witted and naive to oversee the kingdom in his absence. Queen Anne and Lord Grist were both intelligent people and it stood to reason that their son was as well. Perhaps with Eckhart not around, the real Hal would emerge. Rory hoped so; it would be a tedious morning otherwise.

There was a guard outside Hal's door. He was leaning against the wall but when he spotted Rory, he straightened up.

"Master DuPond," he said, nodding in acknowledgment as Rory came to a stop in front of him. "You can go in."

"Is Ha... His Lordship receiving guests?"

"Lord Eckhart said we could admit you and your wife and friend at any time."

"I see."

"Yes, Sir." The guard turned to pull open the door and Rory stepped into the room.

Rory had been in Hal's quarters the previous day, but his attention had been on Eckhart and the young man rather than the room. He took a moment now to look around. The layout was similar to that of the quarters he was sharing with Amy and the Doctor, though the outer room was larger than theirs. There was a fireplace with an ornately-carved mantel in the wall to his left. Directly opposite the hall door were a half-dozen mullioned windows, and in the door to his right there was a single door, presumably leading to a bedroom. There were several cushioned chairs in the room, arranged to allow conversation, and a trestle table which would comfortably seat eight sat beneath the windows, with high-backed chairs around it. There were paintings on the walls but rather than the stiff portraits that decorated the halls, these were landscapes. There was only one tapestry, on the wall beside the bedroom door. It appeared to be a family crest, with the symbols done in blue on a faded red background.

"It's the Grist family shield." Eckhart's voice came from a chair near the fireplace. Rory turned to see the man watching him. "I'm afraid young Hal isn't awake yet. His attendant's gone in to see if he's close to waking."

"He did drink a lot last night. Does he do that often?" Rory moved over to sit in a chair next to Eckhart's.

"It has happened several times since he was named Steward."

"What about before?"

"I... I don't know."

"Uh-huh."

"Queen Anne's marriage to Grist unsettled the court. She couldn't grant him any special favors without risking riling them up again, and once Hal arrived, the same went for him. She did her best to ensure not only that Arthur was prepared to be king, but that everyone should see that he was being readied."

"And what about Hal?"

"He wasn't neglected," Eckhart said, sounding aggrieved. "He was prepared for his future, just as Arthur was."

"And what was Hal's future supposed to be?"

"He will inherit his father's lands and title."

"That's a far cry from being Lord High Steward."

"Yes it is." Eckhart sighed. "Arthur has proven to be a good king, respected even by those who don't agree with him. I'm afraid that in this instance, though, he's made a mistake."

"You don't think Hal's up to the task."

"He's very young..."

"He's been thrust into this role that he never expected to have, someone's trying to kill him, and all the while..." Rory let his voice trail off.

"All the while what?" asked Eckhart.

"You're talking to him like he's a dim-witted child, you're ordering everyone about..."

"I'm helping him. Someone has to take charge..."

"Yes. _Hal_ has to. He's the one Arthur named Lord High Steward, not..." Rory stopped.

"Not me," said Eckhart.

"You said Arthur was a good king. This was his decision."

"And I should respect it."

"Even if you don't agree with it." Eckhart sighed.

"I... I have some thinking to do," he said. "If you'll excuse me, I'll leave rousing His Lordship to you this morning, Master Williams." Rory nodded, unsure what to say. Eckhart got to his feet and he did the same, watching as the older man crossed the room to the hall door. Once it had closed behind him, Rory's gaze moved to the bedroom door. He took a deep breath and started toward it. It was time to wake the Lord High Steward.


	12. Chapter 11: The Doctor

_**Many thanks to everyone who's added this to favorites, signed up for alerts, or sent in reviews! It's much appreciated. **_

The Doctor slipped out of the palace. He'd visited the kitchens but found the servants there too busy to talk. He thought he'd go over to the remains of the Parliament building to see how far along the workers had come in clearing the rubble. Maybe if he could assure Rory that they'd be able to get back to the TARDIS soon, his friend would be able to relax and concentrate on helping Hal. He didn't like to admit it, but a part of him would feel reassured to see his ship as well.

The Doctor had only taken a few steps on the gravel path when he heard men shouting. They seemed to be cheering and he could hear grunts and the sound of swords clashing. He turned toward the noises, which seemed to be coming from his left, and hurried toward them, sliding on the gravel as he reached a corner of the building.

The sounds were coming from a courtyard. There were about two dozen men, clad in breeches and shirts, standing together around a marked-off square on the ground. They were shouting and cheering as two more men, also in breeches, faced one another in the square. The Doctor supposed they were wearing shirts as well but it was hard to tell. Large amounts of padding had been strapped around their chests and arms. The effect made the Doctor think of the Michelin man and he fought back a snicker. Each of the padded men held a sword and as the Doctor watched, one of them launched himself at the other. The second man easily dodged the attack but he lowered his sword, leaving himself open for another blow as the first man recovered.

"No, no, no!" shouted a voice. The two fighters stopped, both turning to look as a man stepped forward from the cluster of watchers. The Doctor wasn't surprised to see that it was Captain Hesse. "How many times have I told you, Herrond? You never lower your guard."

"Sorry, Sir," muttered the man who'd lowered his sword.

"Watch," Hesse ordered, stepping up to take the sword from Herrond. The man moved aside as Hesse lifted the weapon and motioned for the other man to make an attack.

"Sir, you're not in protective gear," the second man said.

"Do you really think you're going to land a blow on me Galler?" The crowd snickered and the man called Galler's face flushed.

"Sir..."

"Come ahead," Hesse said, motioning with his free hand. Galler sighed and nodded. He lifted his sword, feinting one way before shifting the angle of his attack. Hesse parried the blow with ease before striking out and landing a solid hit. Galler staggered from the blow but righted himself, turning to return the attack. The fight continued but it was clear that Galler was over-matched. He quickly gave up on any offense, instead focusing all his efforts on blocking blows from Hesse. He staggered about the square until Hesse drove him out of it with a final attack. Galler staggered back, losing his balance and sitting down hard. Hesse motioned for him to get up but Galler shook his head, setting aside his sword.

"I've had enough for one morning, Captain," he said breathlessly.

"Very well." Hesse turned to face the crowd. "Who's next?" he asked, scanning the crowd. His eyes widened as he caught sight of the Doctor. "I didn't expect to find you here, Dr. Smith. Out for a stroll were you?"  
"As a matter of fact, yes."

"And what do you think? Does our training seem sufficient?"  
"It's certainly... vigorous."

"Perhaps you'd care to give it a try." Hesse gestured to one side of the square and the men standing there moved aside, revealing a rack of weapons. There were swords of varying lengths, battle axes, lances, and staffs. Additional padding and straps were piled beside it. The Doctor looked to Hesse and found the man watching him, his lips curving in a contemptuous smile. He didn't want to fight the man, but backing down in front of this crowd didn't seem like a good idea either. He squared his shoulders and started toward the rack. Hesse moved to meet him. He started to point out several swords but the Doctor ignored him, reaching for one of the staffs.

"I'm not much for... sharp objects," he said. "This will do nicely."

"A staff." Hesse sounded scornful. The Doctor ignored him, lifting the weapon from the rack. Hesse shook his head and turned to back to the square while the Doctor got a feel for the staff's weight and balance. One of the men came up beside him, holding up a stack of padding and straps.

"You should put this on," he said. The Doctor looked at it, frowning, before he finally nodded.

"All right." He reached for his bow-tie only to remember he wasn't wearing it. With a sigh, he started to shrug out of the tunic. Two men helped strap the padding around him. Once they were done, the Doctor reached for the staff he'd chosen before turning to step into the square where Hesse stood waiting.

"If you're ready, Smith." The Doctor nodded. He intended to speak but before he could, Hesse was lunging at him, sword slashing. The Doctor jumped back just in time to avoid the blow. He spun quickly, remembering how fast Hesse had moved before, and sure enough, the man was already turned and coming back at him. There was no time to dodge and the Doctor brought up the staff, gripping it in both hands as he blocked the other man's blow. He felt the solid wood vibrate from the force of the hit and his hands tingled. For a moment he and Hesse stood together, the blonde man scowling as he pressed forward with his sword. The Doctor pushed back, his heels digging into the surface of the courtyard as he worked to hold his ground. When Hesse suddenly drew back, the Doctor stumbled forward. He barely managed to dodge a blow from the other man as he did. He regained his footing and quickly spun around to face Hesse again, bringing up his staff just in time to block another strike. This time he didn't just try to hold his ground. Instead he pushed forward with all his might, sending Hesse stumbling back a couple of steps. For a second the blonde man seemed surprised. Then his lips curved in a grim smile and he resumed his attack. The crowd of men, who had been chatting softly, fell silent as the fight continued.

The Doctor dodged and ducked, blocking blows with the heavy staff when he couldn't avoid them. Hesse kept him on the defensive, leaving him no opportunities to strike a blow of his own. The man was a skilled fighter and the Doctor could feel himself flagging. His hands were tingling from the force of the blows against the staff and his arms ached. He could feel sweat starting to trickle beneath his shirt and the heavy padding. Though his face was pink and his breathing hard, the captain showed no signs of slowing down.

Hesse lunged after him and the Doctor moved back, trying to dodge the attack. He realized too late that he hadn't acted quickly enough and he lifted his staff. Unfortunately, he didn't get his feet planted before Hesse's blow landed. The Doctor was pushed back and he lost his balance, sitting down hard on the ground. Hesse pressed forward and the Doctor fell back, laying on the ground. He managed to keep his arms up, holding the staff between his body and the sword, but he could feel himself weakening. As his arms lowered, the sword tip came closer and closer to his chin until it seemed certain he would be cut. At the last second, Hesse drew back. He staggered back a couple of steps, breathing heavily, and lowered his sword so the tip was to the ground. The Doctor let his arms fall to his sides, the staff resting against one open hand.

"You're stronger than you look," Hesse told him. The Doctor chuckled wryly, not moving from his place on the ground as he waited for the trembling in his arms to stop. He could feel Hesse watching him. After a moment he was aware of movement and he shifted his gaze in time to see Hesse waving one of the men in the crowd over. He handed the sword over to the man before stepping toward the Doctor.

"You defended yourself well," he said, holding out a hand. The Doctor stared for a second before reaching up to take it, allowing the man help him to his feet.

"Thank you."

"I think we've done enough for one morning," Hesse said, looking over at the crowd. "Galler, Herrond - make sure everything is squared away." He turned back toward the Doctor. "I think it's time we talked, Smith."


	13. Chapter 12: Hal

Hal wasn't sure what woke him, but he wished it hadn't. The moment he drew near consciousness he became aware of a terrible throbbing in his head, a horrid taste in his mouth, and a burning in his stomach. He was twisted in an awkward position, with one arm pinned beneath his body. The trapped arm was numb but he was afraid to move, even a little, for fear of making the pain in his head worse. He lay frozen beneath the bed-clothes, afraid he'd be sick any second and unable to think about anything other than how awful he felt.

After a few minutes his head cleared and he realized what had woke him was the sound of voices. Two men were speaking quietly nearby. He recognized the voice of his attendant but he wasn't sure who the second speaker was. His heart started to pound, making the pain in his head grow worse, as he strained to listen. Who was in his bed chamber? What was he doing there? His numb arm was aching but Hal was frozen in indecision. If he moved he would attract the men's attention, which might prompt the stranger to take whatever action he'd come for. On the other hand, if he stayed still, he made an easier target. _Arthur would know what to do_, he thought. _He'd probably have a sword near to hand and spring from his bed to grab it up..._

"M'Lord?" The sound of his attendant's voice so close made Hal start. The pain in his head sharpened and the burning in his stomach grew more intense. He tried and failed to hold back a moan.

"Sire?" The attendant sounded anxious now and Hal winced as hands moved on the covers. "Are you well, M'Lord?" A second later the quilt was drawn away from his face and the light from the uncovered window seemed to stab into his head. He squeezed his eyes shut against the glare.

"No, Nevins" Hal answered, struggling to shift onto his back. He flopped over, tasting acid in his mouth briefly and flung his good arm over his eyes in an attempt to block out all traces of light. He tried to flex the fingers on his numb hand but he wasn't sure if they moved or not. The pins and needles sensation had increased to the point of being almost painful.

"Shall I fetch the physicians?" asked Nevins. "Perhaps the leeches..."

"He doesn't need leeches," came the voice of the second man. Hal frowned as he struggled to recognize it. He moved his arm up onto his forehead and opened his eyes cautiously, squinting out at the room.

"Sir?" Nevins stood beside the bed to Hal's right. The other speaker was moving. A second later the light in the room dimmed as the curtains were drawn over the window. Hal shifted his eyes in that direction.

"Go to the kitchens and tell them we need a pot of strong, sweet tea, dry toast, and water." The speaker moved closer to the bed and Hal recognized Rory Williams.

"Yes, Sir." Nevins nodded before moving away from the bed. A second later Hal heard the door open and close. He closed his eyes, covering them with his arm once more. For a few minutes the room was quiet. Hal kept still, hoping the nausea would subside and wishing Rory would go away and leave him alone. He was in no condition to entertain company.

"Where I come from, we call what you're experiencing a hang-over." Rory's voice made Hal start and he groaned at a fresh wave of nausea.

"Why?" he asked once he trusted himself to open his mouth.

"I... actually don't know. Huh." Hal snorted but said nothing. He was trying to remember what had happened the night before. He cringed as he remembered the way the Iberian ambassador, Arasand, had all but ignored him throughout the meal. _And what did you do about it?_ he asked himself. D_id you try to strike up a conversation? No. You sat there like a fool and you drank too much wine. I'm sure that made a great impression. _He shuddered. _Arthur would never have permitted an ambassador to ignore him like that. He would have found something to talk about, some way to draw the man's attention back to him. He wouldn't have been intimidated. I have to do better. I can't make any more mistakes, especially with the Iberians. Arthur's counting on me... _

"Hal?" Rory's voice broke through the haze of recrimination. "Hal, can you sit up?"

"No. Just... just leave me."

"Come on. The tea and toast will settle your stomach, and if you drink some water it'll help your head."

"I can't."

"Yes you can. I'll help you." Hal felt a hand on his shoulder, firm but gentle, and a second later he was being eased up. His arm dropped away from his head but he kept his eyes squeezed shut. Even the dim lighting from the sunshine leaking around the curtain edges was too bright for his comfort. Rory scooted him back against the headboard and someone - Nevins he assumed - tucked a pillow behind him.

The first sip of tea helped wash away some of the foul taste in his mouth and when it didn't come back up, Hal braved a second. He continued in that vein, taking cautious sips of tea and water and small bites of toast. Gradually his stomach settled, though the pain in his head lingered. Rory had to help him hold the tea-cup and water-glass at first, but by the time he finished the toast his hands were steady.

"Did that help?" Rory asked him.

"Yes. Thank you."

"Good." Rory reached out to take Hal's empty tea cup, motioning toward the pot to offer him more. Hal shook his head.

"Have you tended many hang-overs?" he asked.

"A few. Amy and I had a..." Rory hesitated, his face screwing up in a pained expression. "a friend growing up who... well, she had more than a few hang-overs over the years and we were the ones who wound up nursing her through them."

"She was fortunate to have you to look after her."

"I suppose." Rory seemed doubtful. For a moment Hal considered asking him about it, but he didn't want to pry.

"Well, I appreciate your help." Hal intended the words to sound like a dismissal, but Rory made no move to leave. Instead, he reached for the water glass and refilled it from the pitchen Nevins had brought.

"You should drink some more water," he said, holding out the glass. Hal took it, staring down into the liquid for a moment as he tried to figure out what to say next.

"Why... why are you here?" he asked at last, looking up at Rory.

"I came to talk to you. I hoped you might have some ideas about who's trying to kill you."

"I told you yesterday that I didn't."

"Yesterday we were with Eckhart. He... he didn't give you much of a chance to speak for yourself." Hal snorted.

"He never does." He regretted the words as soon as he said them.

"Yeah, I had that impression."

"I... I shouldn't complain. He's very loyal to my family. He's helping me..."

"But sometimes you could do with a little less help."

"I... I don't know."

"Arthur did name you Lord High Steward. He must have thought..."

"My brother always..." Hal stopped, shaking his head.

"Always what?"

"He... it wasn't about thinking I was... capable. He just... he had to pick someone who wouldn't have a chance of stealing the throne from him, someone who couldn't build a following. I'm not political. I... I'm not a... a danger to him."

"I didn't think your brother's hold on the throne was that weak. Eckhart said he was admired."

"He is. Everyone... everyone loves him. Well, nearly everyone. He's not weak."

"Then why would he be worried about someone trying to steal his throne?"

"He... I don't know! I don't know why he thought... I... dammit!" Hal's hands were shaking so badly that water from the glass sloshed over the side and spilled onto the bed-clothes. Rory took the glass as Hal threw back the wet duvet, getting out of the bed and starting for the bath-chamber on the other side of the room. He brushed past Rory as he went, not meeting the other man's eyes, and closed the door firmly behind him. His legs were shaking now and he sank back against the door, letting himself slide down until he was sitting on the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his fists into them as he struggled to hold back tears.

_I can't do this!_ he thought. _Why did Arthur ever think I could? Look at last night. Getting drunk, leering at that dancer... _His hands dropped from his eyes as he remembered the way the woman had smiled at him. The memory sent a rush of warmth through him. It was quickly followed by a chill. A_rasand offered... offered __her__ to me. And I accepted! Eckhart would have a conniption if he knew! He'd be certain it was a trap of some kind, because of course that woman couldn't be interested in __me__. _Hal sighed, letting his head drop back against the door. _He'd probably be right. This has to be some kind of trap. Arasand wants to compromise me somehow or... or worse._ Another chill swept over him. _What am I going to do?_


	14. Chapter 13: Amy

The servant who answered the door at Lady Cecily's quarters was surprised to find Amy waiting with the messenger. She stared, her expression moving from startled to aggravated, as the messenger explained that Amy had wanted to come rather than send back a note.

"Lady Cecily is still at her breakfast," the woman said, scowling.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am..." began the messenger, only to be cut off as Lady Cecily's voice came from behind the partially closed door.

"Oh do stop fussing, Constance, and let Mistress DuPond in." The servant sighed and stepped back, motioning for Amy to enter. Amy gave the messenger a sympathetic smile before crossing the threshold.

Lady Cecily's quarters appeared to have the same layout as the ones Amy was sharing with Rory and the Doctor. In the large outer chamber there was a fireplace with a small grouping of chairs in front of it and a table and chairs sat beneath the windows on the far wall. Lady Cecily was at the table, facing toward the door, with a half-filled plate in front of her. She rose from her chair as Amy approached.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your meal," Amy told her.

"It's quite all right. I'm so glad you've come. Please, have a seat. I suppose you've already eaten but surely another cup of coffee won't go amiss?"

"Never," Amy said. Lady Cecily nodded to the servant before motioning Amy to a chair. The seat was at one end of the table, placing her close to her hostess and also giving her a view out the windows. Lady Cecily's quarters were on the ground floor of the palace and Amy saw what she thought was a formal garden outside. She could see part of a hedge-row as well as flower bed with a few plants beginning to bloom, and a gravel path.

"I am lucky to be positioned near the palace gardens," Lady Cecily said, calling Amy's attention from the windows. "There's not a lot to see just yet - it's early - but in another month the view will be quite lovely. Maybe later this morning, when it's less chilly, we can take a turn about them. It's a good place to walk and talk."

"That sounds nice." Amy looked over as Constance approached with a cup balanced on a saucer. "Thank you." The servant nodded in acknowledgment before looking to Lady Cecily.

"Is there anything else, Your Ladyship?"

"Not at the moment, Constance. In fact, you can leave us. I'll ring if we need anything."

"Yes, Your Ladyship." Constance dipped in a curtsey before crossing the room to the hall door. Lady Cecily was silent until the door closed after the servant.

"Now we can talk freely," she said. "I assume you want to discuss the people here at court, and which of them are most likely to be trying to murder Hal."

"Yes," Amy replied, "but first I was hoping you could tell me about Arthur and Hal."

"What do you want to know?"

"What sort of king is Arthur?"

"He's an excellent king," Lady Cecily said, "compassionate without being gullible, strong without being cruel."

"So he's respected."

"Oh yes. The men at court all respect him. The women adore him. He's quite handsome, like his father was. Unlike his father, he doesn't chase after women for sport. I suspect there are few young ladies who find that disappointing, but on the whole it makes for a calmer court."

"What about Hal? What's he like?"

"Hal is... quiet. Queen Anne caused quite a stir by marrying Lord Grist while still serving as Arthur's regent, and then when she becamse pregnant, many at court were agitated. She always did her best to make it clear that she had no intention of lingering as Regent or allowing Grist to surplant Arthur. She put him forward, made sure everyone could see he was being educated and readied for the throne. Hal was kept to the background."

"Always in his brother's shadow."

"I'm afraid so. To be fair, Arthur did his best to draw his brother out, including him in his sports and games despite the difference in their ages. There were a group of young men close to Arthur's age - sons of high-ranking nobles - who played together when they were all at court. It was known that if you wished to continue as part of that circle, you would accept Hal's presence. There were a few boys who learned the hard way that Arthur was serious about that."

"Those boys must resent Hal."

"I'm sure they did at the time, but it was many years ago."

"Why do you think Arthur chose Hal to be Lord High Steward? Your brother didn't seem to know."

"Rolf wasn't privy to any discussions about it, no. In truth, Arthur doesn't confide in my brother much these days. I think he feels it's time he established his own group of advisors rather than relying on those men who served his mother. It's only natural."

"Was naming Hal part of that bid for independence?"

"Possibly." Lady Cecily paused, taking a sip from her coffee cup. "He and Arthur were always close. I think he felt guilty about Hal being kept in the background so much. Perhaps he felt this was Hal's chance to step out of the shadows and show the court what he can do."

"That's not working out so well."

"No so far," admitted Lady Cecily. She took another sip of coffee and set the cup down. "We have to remember, Arthur knows Hal better than we do. He must have seen something in him that made him believe he could handle this role. He wouldn't have chosen him to be Steward otherwise."

"I suppose he didn't expect anyone would be trying to kill Hal either."

"Exactly. The assassination attempts have taken their toll."

"Poor kid's probably terrified and then he's got your brother..." Amy bit back her criticism of Eckhart. Lady Cecily smiled.

"Rolf's being over-bearing, isn't he? I was afraid that might happen. He just can't stop seeing these young men as the boys he used to watch playing soldier."

"No wonder Arthur wants to be independent."

"Yes. My brother may have the best of intentions, but no king wants an advisor second-guessing his every decision."

"Can't he... back off a bit? I'm sure he does have good advice to give but it does no good if no one will listen to it."

"I don't think he realizes what he's doing. I tried to talk to him about it once but he wasn't in the right frame of mind to listen and I gave it up. I've been waiting for the right moment to try again but with preparing Hal for the address to Parliament and the arrival of the Iberian ambassador, all while worrying over the assassination attempts, it's been hard to get my brother alone for even a few minutes."

"What happens if the assassins succeed? Who takes over as Steward then?" asked Amy.

"I don't know," Lady Cecily said, frowning. "There hasn't been anyone appointed Lord High Steward in my lifetime, until now. I don't beleive Arthur named a second."

"So if Hal is killed..."

"There's no one who automatically steps in to fill the role." Lady Cecily traced a finger-tip around the rim of her coffee cup. "If I were a power-hungry, ambitious man with designs on the throne, I would seize the opportunity presented to claim it."

"Is there such a man?"

"Oh, there are always a few."

"Anyone in particular stand out to you?"

"Lord Breckenridge, the Earl of Somermet, could make a legitimate claim to the throne based on his ancestry. He did try to stake such a claim after King Henry's death but once Anne brought Arthur back from the countryside and it was clear there was a viable heir, he let the matter drop. He has not been to court for several years now, but he still has allies here."

"You think he could be behind the assassination attempts?"

"It would be a clever strategem. Wait until the powerful king is away from court and take out his underling, then in the resulting chaos, come forward to lead the kingdom through the crisis."

"And when Arthur returns?"

"There are many dangers for Arthur in Caledonia, and he has a long road to travel before he returns to the capital. There would be many opportunities to prevent his return, if fate did not tend to it naturally."

"And Breckenridge would say he had no choice but to stay, for the good of the country."

"It is how I would do it, if I were a man bent on taking the crown. Of course, I would have to find a scapegoat to bring to justice for the killing of Hal, but that wouldn't be too difficult."

"You'd look innocent while getting the thing you wanted."

"Exactly."

"Is Breckenridge that clever?"

"Oh yes. He was Henry's chief general in the last war with Gauline. It was his strategy which won the war for us."

"He sounds dangerous."

"He is. Most assuredly, he is."


	15. Chapter 14: Rory

_**Many thanks to those of you following and favoriting this story, and especially to those of you reviewing. I really appreciate it. **_

Tending to Hal's hang-over made Rory feel old and sad. He couldn't help thinking of Mels and all the times he and Amy had tried to help her through her hang-overs. _All that time, and we never knew she was our daughter. _ He pushed the thought away, trying to keep his mind on the present. He could mourn the past later; for now he needed to try to help this young man.

The conversation didn't go as Rory would have hoped. Instead of making Hal feel better, it only upset him. Finally, when his hands shook so much that he spilled water on the bed, the young man got up and fled to the bath-chamber. He closed the door without slamming it and the room fell silent. Rory stayed where he was, holding the half-empty water glass, and wondered what he should do.

"Shall I remove the tray, Sir?" The servant's voice startled him. During his talk with Hal, he'd forgotten about the attendant's presence. He turned now to find the man standing near the door to the outer room.

"I... I guess," he said. The attendant nodded and came toward him, reaching out to take the glass.

"I will return with water so Master Hal can bathe, unless you feel that would be unwise in his condition?"

"Condition?"  
"I believe you called it a 'hang-over,' Sir." The servant stepped around Rory to put the water glass on the tray with the tea-pot, cup, and pitcher. He added the plate which had held Hal's toast and lifted the tray.

"Oh. Right. No, there's nothing wrong with him taking a bath. It might make him feel better, actually."

"Then I'll get the water heating and have it brought up shortly. In the meantime, is there anything you need, Sir?"

"No, I'm good. Thank you..."

"Nevins, Sir."

"Thank you, Nevins." The servant nodded and left. Rory turned to look at the bath-chamber door. There was still no sound coming from behind it. Rory thought he would find the sounds of sobbing or retching less worrisome than this prolonged silence. He didn't want to intrude but he was concerned. He also didn't want the servants' arrival to be a surprise. He moved toward the door, calling out as he approached it.

"Hal?"

"Don't come in here!"

"I'm not going to, not if you don't want me to..."

"I don't!"

"Ok. I said I wouldn't and I won't." Rory felt a flare of irritation which he quickly tamped down. Losing his temper wasn't going to help matters.

"Why don't you just go away?"

"Because you need help."

"I'm beyond help." Hal sniffled loudly and Rory felt his hold on his temper slip.

"Enough!" he snapped. "I know you feel sick and miserable and scared, but sitting around feeling sorry for yourself isn't helping!"

"I'm..." Hal started to protest but stopped. "I don't know what to do," he finished, sounding small.

"Start with getting yourself cleaned up and dressed," Rory told him. "Nevins is sending up some bath-water for you."

"All right. Then what?"

"I don't know yet. We'll figure it out together, once you're up and dressed. Ok?"

"Ok." Hal opened the bathroom door and stepped out. He looked very pale and very young as he shuffled toward the bed. Rory moved after him, feeling guilty for losing his tempter.

Nevins arrived with three servants carrying buckets of steaming water a few minutes later. He directed the bath preparations while Rory and Hal waited by the bed. When things were ready, Hal let the servant steer him toward the tub. The bathroom door closed behind them and Rory turned away.

After pacing Hal's bedroom for a few minutes, Rory wandered into the outer room. He moved toward the fireplace, dropping into the chair he'd occupied earlier. He'd just settled into the seat when he heard a commotion in the hall. A second later the door from the hall burst open. Rory turned to peer over the top of his chair to see the doorway filled with a giant of a man. He was well over six feet tall and his broad shoulders were almost as wide as the doorway. He wore the usual combination of breeches and tunic favored by Umbrian men, topped with a deep red cloak. His hair and beard were iron-gray but his thick eyebrows were black. His eyes were narrowed by his scowl so that Rory couldn't make out their color.

"Eckhart, you great ass!" he bellowed as he crossed the threshold. A sputtering royal guard took a tentative step after him but didn't come any further than the doorway. He met Rory's eyes for a second before looking away sheepishly. With a sigh, Rory pushed himself up and stepped around his chair to face the stranger. The man's eyes widened in surprise. "You're not Eckhart. Where is the fool?" he demanded. His voice was booming and Rory had to fight hard not to take a step back from him.

"He's not here," he began. The man cut him off.

"Doesn't matter. I've come to see the Lord High Steward. Where is he?"

"He's... indisposed."

"Well, go and tell him I'm here and I want to talk to him."

"Who are you?"

"Who am I?" The man stared, clearly startled by the question. When he answered, his voice rang through the chamber. "I am Lord Breckenridge, the Earl of Somermet, and cousin to His Majesty the King."

"Second cousin, once removed," corrected a voice from the doorway. Rory felt a rush of relief as Eckhart stepped into the room. He closed the door firmly behind him. "What is the meaning of this disturbance, Breckenridge? I could hear you half-way down the corridor."

"What is the meaning of you bringing that rat Arasand here?"

"I did not bring Count Arasand here..."

"Count? The weasel's gone up in the world."

"He is the Iberian ambassador and an honored guest of this court."

"He is not to be trusted."

"Why do you say that?" asked Rory, getting in his question before Eckhart could speak.

"I've dealt with him before," Breckenridge answered. "The Iberians sent a group to 'mediate' after the last war with Gauline. He was amongst the party."

"He is the man the Emperor chose as his representative to our court," Eckhart said. "We can hardly turn him away because you happen to dislike him."

"You shouldn't have the Iberians here at all."

"That is not your decision to make, Breckenridge. The King invited the Iberians."

"Then the King should be here to meet them."

"The Caledonians..."

"You think it a coincidence that the Caledonians start making trouble again just before the Iberians are scheduled to arrive?" Breckenridge shook his head.

"The Caledonians have always allied themselves with Gauline, never Iberia..."

"Their dislike of us is what has united them with Gauline. Why shouldn't it unite them with Iberia as well? Don't be such a simpleton, Eckhart."

"Breckenridge..."

"What is going on here?" Hal spoke from his bedroom doorway. He was dressed in breeches and a shirt. Rory could see Nevins standing behind him, holding a tunic.

"It's nothing, Your Lordship," Eckhart said. "Lord Breckenridge..."

"Lord Breckenridge will speak for himself," snapped the Earl. Eckhart scowled but the big man turned away, making a half-bow to Hal. When he spoke his tone was subdued. "Your Lordship, I've come because I am concerned." He stopped and Hal, after a moment's confusion, spoke.

"Concerned about what?" he asked.

"The Iberians, Sire. They are not to be trusted. You should be careful of them, especially their ambassador. Arasand is a sneaky and devious devil."

"What do you suspect him of?"

"Nothing specific. I just know the man, and I would not trust him or any offers of friendship which he might make."

"It was my brother's wish that the Iberians come and that we try to make peace with their nation," Hal said. "I... I can't turn away their ambassador."

"Of course not," put in Eckhart.

"I understand that. It is my proposal that you do allow them to stay, but that you add me to your council while they're here."

"That... that is preposterous..." sputtered Eckhart.

"I do not want to interfere in any attempts at peace. I merely feel that it might be helpful for you to have someone here who knows what Arasand is capable of, and perhaps the memory of our last encounter in Gauline will deter him from trying anything underhanded."

"King Arthur wants peace with Iberia," Eckhart said.

"But not, I think, peace at any price," retorted Breckenridge, scowling at the slighter man. Rory looked away from them to Hal. The young man had one arm out, braced against the doorframe. His face was pale and his eyes huge. Rory crossed the room to him.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly.

"I... I don't know."

"Hal," began Eckhart, "you cannot..."

"Enough," snapped Rory, glaring at the man.

"Your Lordship..."

"I said enough," Rory repeated, turning his scowl toward Breckenridge.

"Master DuPond..."

"You both need to leave now." Eckhart stared, his expression moving from surprise to anger as he realized Rory wasn't going to back down. Breckenridge watched the two of them for a second before turning his gaze back to Hal.

"My apologies, Your Lordship," he said, making another half-bow. "I can see that I've interrupted your dressing and I thank you for being gracious enough to hear me out in spite of that. I'll leave you now to consider what I've said. Please know that I am at your service, ready to be of use in whatever capacity you feel is best."

"Tha... thank you," Hal said, nodding to the Earl. "That... that's very kind." Breckenridge returned the nod before turning to leave. He stopped at the door, looking back to Eckhart.

"I believe we were both asked to leave," he said. Eckhart frowned at Rory for a second longer before turning to move after the larger man. The second the door closed behind them, Hal slumped against the doorframe. Rory caught him as he slid toward the floor.

"Hal?"

"I'm... I'm sorry," Hal whispered.


	16. Chapter 15: The Doctor

_**Another quick note to thank everyone who's following and favoriting and reviewing this story. I appreciate it very much!**_

Hesse led the Doctor from the courtyard, setting a brisk pace that didn't allow for conversation. Instead of turning to go back the way the Doctor had come, he went in the opposite direction. They moved past a wing of the palace and toward a smaller building. It was made of the same brick as the palace, with a slate roof and tall, narrow windows. Hesse sprang up a set of steps toward a pair of large wooden doors. The Doctor moved after him more slowly. His arms were still trembling from the fight and he was glad when Hesse stopped to hold the door for him.

The doors opened into a marble-floored hall with walls paneled in ornately-carved dark wood. Hesse stepped in beside him and started across the hall. The Doctor followed him, wondering how much longer the man could go without speaking. They wove their way around the clusters of chairs and benches in the hall, toward a large fireplace across from the door. When Hesse stopped short of the wall, the Doctor nearly crashed into him. The captain glanced at him before reaching out to open a door which was nearly invisible due to the carvings in the wall panels.

"I thought we could speak in my chamber," Hesse said, motioning the Doctor to go ahead.

The dark paneling continued in this room, interrupted only by three tall, narrow windows in the wall opposite the door. A large table sat directly ahead of the Doctor, with two chairs facing it and a third behind it. There were several stacks of parchment on it, held down by smooth stones. There was a clay cup full of quills and an ink-well to one side. Hesse moved around behind the work-table and dropped into the chair. He waved the Doctor toward one of the guest chairs.

"Please, sit," he said.

"Thank you." The Time Lord took the chair he'd been offered and sat back, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands in his lap to hide the way his arms still trembled from time to time. He waited, wondering what Hesse intended to say.

"I'll keep this brief," the other man said. "I know who you and your friends are. I know the three of you had a hand in rescuing Queen Anne from her father nearly twenty years ago."

"Not exactly..."

"Eckhart trusts you. His Lordship believes you are heroes. They both feel you can help find these would-be assassins and stop them." Hesse paused and the Doctor stayed quiet. The unspoken "but" hung in the air between them for a moment before Hesse continued. "I cannot ignore their feelings, but I am captain of the royal guards. His Lordship's safety is my responsibility. I was entrusted with it by His Majesty himself. It is not a trust I take lightly."

"I understand."

"When this is over, one way or the other, you and your friends will get into your little box and fly away..."

"Assuming we're still alive and not prisoners," the Doctor said tersely. He had a feeling he knew where Hesse was going with this; Octavian had made a similar accusation on the _Byzantium_. The words didn't sting any less for being familiar.

"Yes, assuming that." Hesse sighed. "I do not like involving you or your friends, Doctor, but I'm in no position to turn away assistance. The situation is dire. It has been luck, not skill, which has saved His Lordship up to now. We cannot count on that luck to hold. We must find these assassins before they can strike again." The Doctor nodded. Something Hesse had said was nagging at him. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward in his chair.

"Why did he entrust it to you?" he asked.

"What?"

"You are the captain of the royal guards. Why aren't you with the king? Why did Arthur leave you behind?"

"Doctor..."

"Clearly he trusts you or he wouldn't have asked you to protect his brother. Why did he leave you behind?" The Doctor lifted his brows at the scowling Hesse, who sighed.

"He... he didn't want to take me away from my wife," he said. "She was with child, and near to her time of confinement. He felt it would be wrong to take me from her."

"Ah. And the baby?"

"Born three days ago." A quick smile flashed across Hesse's face.

"Boy or girl?"

"A girl. Doctor..."

"What did you name her?"

"We haven't decided on a name yet." There was a mixture of pride and irritation in Hesse's face. The Doctor thought that, under different circumstances, the man would be glad to talk about his baby daughter. Given the situation, however, it was time to get back to the matter of who was trying to kill the Lord High Steward. The Doctor got up from the chair to pace as he talked.

"These attacks are escalating. The first assassination attempt was on Hal alone. The second would have not only killed him but anyone else who ate the trifle. The third would have taken out not only the Lord High Steward but Parliament as well." The Doctor turned to look at Hesse. "What does that suggest to you, Captain?"

"That the assassins are growing bolder."

"Or desperate."

"Either way it means they are more dangerous. Now not only is the Lord High Steward in danger, but anyone close to him is threatened as well. We were able to keep the first two attempts quiet, but there's no way to hide what happened at the Parliament building. There are already rumblings from some of the nobles about leaving the court."

"Could that be the real aim of these attacks?" asked the Doctor. Hesse stared, clearly thrown by the question. The Time Lord resumed his pacing. "What if, instead of killing Hal, they intend to isolate him? Drive everyone away from the court?"

"What would that gain them?"  
"I don't know," the Doctor admitted, spinning on one heel. "Tell me more about these attacks. The first was while Hal was out riding?"

"Yes. He used to take a daily ride. We had just left the park and gone into the woods to the east of the palace. His Lordship said he thought his horse was favoring one leg. He leaned down to check it and the arrow shot past him and hit a tree."

"The archer only fired once?"

"Yes," Hesse said.

"Who was with you on this ride?"  
"Just His Lordship and myself."

"So, why didn't the assassin kill you first and then take out Hal?"

"I... I don't know," admitted Hesse.

"The berries which were poisoned came from the market. Who knew that they'd be used in a trifle?" Hesse's eyes lit up as he caught on to the Doctor's train of thought.

"And how could the assassin have known that whatever they were used in would be served to His Lordship? The kitchens feed everyone at the Palace," he said. The Doctor nodded.

"How did you discover the gunpowder in the Parliament building?" he asked, returning to his chair to sit.

"It was in plain sight in the main cellar. When we took His Lordship over we went via a passage which runs between one of the cellars in the Palace to the one in the Parliament building instead of going via the courtyard. We thought it would be more secure. When we stepped out of the passage into the cellar, the barrels were directly ahead, with the fuses running away from them."

"They were burning already?"

"Yes. If His Lordship hadn't gone over early, he wouldn't have been in any danger. The building blew up long before he was due to make his speech. As it was we had very few people to evacuate. Most of the Lords had not yet arrived at the time of the explosion."

"And who knew that Hal would go over early?"

"No one. He was anxious about his speech and decided to go over early just a few minutes before we left."

"Curiouser and curiouser." The Doctor sat back in the chair, steepling his fingers under his chin.

"Indeed." Hesse sighed, sitting back in his chair as well. "As interesting as all of this is, Doctor, the fact remains that everyone around His Lordship is in danger. That now includes you and your friends. I do not want to turn away your help, but are you sure you want to continue with this? By the Queen's order, the Ostem Manor House remains in readiness to receive you. You could take your friends there to stay until such time as we've managed to clear the rubble away from your ship."

"No," the Doctor replied, shaking his head. "I don't want to leave, and no matter how much I might plead, my friends won't leave me to do this alone."

"You are lucky in your friends then."

"I just hope they're lucky in me," the Doctor muttered. Hesse frowned but before he could speak, someone began knocking on the door to the room. The pounding was rapid and wild.

"Come!" Hesse called. The door opened to reveal a young man in guards' uniform. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily.

"Captain! There... there's a disturbance... at the palace!" he gasped.

"What sort of disturbance?" demanded Hesse, getting to his feet and starting around the table. The Doctor rose as well.

"It's... Lord Eckhart... and the Earl... of Somermet," answered the guard. He stepped back to let Hesse and the Doctor through the doorway, moving after them as they started across the hall. "I think... they may... come to blows."

"Where are they?"

"In the... main hall... Sir!"

"What, Ross?" demanded Hesse looking back at the younger man.

"You're... not armed."

"Are there other guards there?"

"Yes."

"Then I won't need to be. Come along, Doctor. Let's see what the fuss is about." Hesse turned toward the doors and the Doctor went with him. The panting Ross came after them.

Hesse broke into a run once they were down the steps, crossing the gravel with long strides. The Doctor ran after him and Ross trotted behind them. They loped past the training courtyard and on toward the door the Doctor had used when he left the palace earlier that morning. As they drew closer, Hesse slowed to a brisk walk. One of the palace doors was open and they could hear the shouting as they approached.

"Eckhart, you are an imbecile!" The man spoke at a bellow, his deep voice ringing in the corridor. The Doctor followed Hesse into the hall to see two men standing near its center, scowling at one another. Eckhart was at least half a foot shorter than his rival, but he showed no signs of backing down. Neither man was armed, fortunately, and a half-dozen royal guards were ranged around them in a loose circle.

"Breckenridge, I'm warning you..."

"Enough!" Hesse's shout rivaled Breckenridge's for volume and the Doctor winced as it echoed in the hall.

"Captain Hesse, I'll thank you not to interfere!" protested Eckhart.

"And I'll thank you not to spill blood on His Majesty's floors," retorted Hesse. "If you wish to quarrel with this man then do it elsewhere."

"Ha!" The man called Breckenridge laughed. "Well said, Sir. Well said."

"The same goes for you, Your Lordship," Hesse replied. "If you're going to continue this argument with Lord Eckhart, you will need to go somewhere else."

"I assure you, Captain, I have no wish to continue any... discussion with this man. I will retire to my chambers now." The giant man nodded to Hesse before turning to walk away. Eckhart glared after him for a moment, his face red with fury.

"Mark my words, Captain. No good will come of that man's presence." Eckhart spun on his heel and stalked away.


	17. Chapter 16: Hal

_**Greetings Dear Readers! Many thanks to all of you who are reading this, following it, favoriting it, and reviewing it! I appreciate it very much so please do keep up the good work! **_

Hal had felt better after his bath but his relief had been short-lived. He'd been in the midst of getting dressed when the shouting had begun in his outer chamber. He'd wanted to ignore it but he was all too aware of Nevins watching him, expecting him to do something. He'd gone to the door reluctantly and found Eckhart arguing with a giant of a man. He'd been surprised to hear Eckhart call the other man Breckenridge. The only Breckenridge Hal had ever heard of was the Earl of Somermet, and as far as he knew, the Earl had left court before he was born. Now it appeared the man was back, and arguing with Eckhart about the Iberians. Their shouting was making his head throb and when they both turned their attention toward him, his stomach began to flip. By the time Rory stepped in and told both men to leave, Hal was nauseated and dizzy. The second the men left, he let himself sag. Rory reached out to catch him.

"I'm... I'm sorry," Hal whispered.

"It's all right," Rory said. "I've got you. Come on, let's get you into a chair." He steered Hal into the outer room. They moved toward the fireplace, Nevins trailing behind them.

"Surely His Lordship should return to bed," he said as Rory guided Hal into a chair. Rory ignored him, his attention on Hal.

"Are you going to be sick?" he asked.

"Maybe," Hal said. He slumped in the chair and Nevins came forward to slip a footstool under his feet.

"You're sure he shouldn't lie down?"

"He needs to drink more water. He's still dehydrated."

"Should I get more from the kitchen?"

"Yes, and some more tea and toast as well." Nevins nodded.

"Right away, Sir." The servant left and Hal sank lower in the chair, closing his eyes. He was aware of Rory moving around. A few minutes later he felt something soft draped over him. He opened his eyes to find it was a blanket.

"You're shivering," Rory told him.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. It's chilly in here."

"No that's not..." Hal sighed. "I'm sure you didn't expect to get stuck playing nursemaid when you took this trip with the Doctor."

"Honestly, I never know what to expect, traveling with the Doctor." Rory stepped over to the fireplace and moved aside the screen, crouching down to study what was left of the fire.

"Still, after all of your adventures, this must be... boring."

"It's different. I've only had to run for my life once, so far." Rory reached for the poker and started to shift the half-burned logs in the fireplace.

"I wish..."

"You wish what?"

"That... that you'd come before Arthur left. He could have made you Lord High Steward."

"He wouldn't have done that, and I wouldn't have accepted even if he tried."

"Really? But why?"

"Because I don't live here." Rory continued to stir the half-burned wood in the fireplace.

"But you'd be good at it. You're... you're not like me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rory turned to look at Hal, the poker dangling from one hand.

"Just... that you're brave and... decisive and...smart."

"You've only just met me."

"But I've heard about you all of my life. When Arthur and I were boys, my mother would tell us the story of Rory Williams and Amy Pond, and how they rode to the rescue of their friend, the Doctor, and the queen. When he was eleven, Arthur figured out that the story was true, that our mother was the queen and that my father was the knight who accompanied Rory and Amy."

"He didn't accompany us. He led the rescue party. If he hadn't agreed to do that, I don't think Amy and I would have been able to save the Doctor."

"But he did, because of you..."

"Because Amy insisted, and kept on insisting even after he said no." Rory shook his head and turned back to the fireplace, crouching down in front of it again. For a few minutes both men were quiet. Rory added a fresh log to the fireplace and reached for the bellows. As he coaxed flames from the embers, Hal spoke again.

"It must... must be strange for you, seeing me and knowing that I'm their son."

"Not really. You look like them."

"That's not... that's not what I meant. They... they were so brave and..."

"They did what they had to do. So did I. So did Amy." Rory set the bellows aside and turned his head to look at Hal. He was scowling and Hal cringed at the sight. He hadn't meant to make Rory angry.

"I... I'm sorry..."

"None of us worried about being brave, or decisive, or smart. We wanted to get the people we cared about back safe. We concentrated on that. The rest... just happened." Rory turned away, working the bellows again. Hal stayed silent, watching as flames leapt to life in the fireplace. His mind was racing. Rory said he did what he had to, that the rest - the bravery, the decisiveness, the smarts - just happened. _He had to get the Doctor back. That meant going after him, getting him away from the people who took him. From my uncle. _Hal shuddered. _Arthur said I'd never betray him like my uncle, but what if I do something else that costs him his throne? I don't want to let him down but I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know what I need to do. Eckhart... _ A knock on the hall door interrupted Hal's thoughts. Rory rose from in front of the fireplace, looking over at Hal. He was frowning but he no longer looked angry.

"You weren't expecting visitors this morning, were you?"

"No," Hal answered, "not that it's stopped them..." His voice trailed off as the door opened and Captain Hesse strode in. The Doctor followed him.

"Your Lordship," Hesse said, bowing quickly. His eyes widened as he saw the blanket draped around Hal. "Are you well, Sire?"

"It's just a..." Hal glanced at Rory, who supplied the word.

"Hang-over."

"Hang-over?" Hesse looked confused and concerned. The Doctor spoke up.

"It happens when someone drinks too much alcohol. It'll pass."

"Ah." Hesse nodded, looking relieved.

"I'm sure all the shouting didn't help your head," the Doctor said. Hal looked up at him in surprise.

"How... how did you..."

"We've just broken up a loud... discussion between the Earl of Somermet and Lord Eckhart in the main hall," Hesse said. "I understand from the guard on your room that they were here a short time ago."

"Ye... yes. Rory made them leave." Hesse's bushy eyebrows went up that. The Doctor just smiled.

"Well done, Mr. Pond," he murmured. Rory frowned and shook his head.

"What were they arguing about, and why here?" asked Hesse.

"Lord Breckenridge was... upsest. About the Iberians," Hal said hesitantly. He was grateful when Rory spoke up.

"He said he'd dealt with Arasand before and that the man isn't trustworthy. He suggested that Hal include him on his council so long as Arasand and the Iberians are at court."

"And Lord Eckhart objected," said Hesse.

"Yes," Hal replied.

"What did you tell them?"

"No... nothing." Hal felt his heart start to pound, making the throbbing in his head return.

"I asked them to leave before he could," Rory said. "Neither of them was in any frame of mind to listen." Hesse frowned.

"Master DuPond, I am sure you meant well, but sending them away with the matter unresolved was... unwise," he said. "There is dissention in the court already about the Iberians and their quarrel will only add to that unrest. This matter has to be resolved, and quickly. If the Iberians realize what's happening..." The Doctor put a hand on Hesse's arm.

"What's done is done, Captain."

"He was only trying to help," Hal added, glancing at Rory to see he was clenching his jaw.

"Yes. I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be critical. It's just, the situation is... volatile."

"We understand, Captain," the Doctor said.

"Do you know what you want to do, Your Lordship?"

"I... I'm not sure," Hal answered, cringing as he spoke. "Maybe... maybe I should talk with Eckhart?" Hesse sighed.

"If you wish." Hal winced at the disappointment in the captain's voice.

"What do you know about Lord Breckenridge, Captain?" asked the Doctor. "Is he trustworthy?"

"He was the late King Henry's chief general in the last war with Gauline," Hesse answered, "and the king relied upon him. He conducted himself well, and was a help at the peace negotiations afterward."

"He mentioned the negotiations," Rory said. "Arasand was there, apparently."

"The Iberians did send what they called mediators, though it was clear that they were there to take Gauline's part in the negotiations. Or so I was told by my father. I was only a child when all of this happened." Hesse sighed. "I'm afraid I have no personal knowlege of the Earl. By the time I came of age, he had withdrawn from court. It is my understanding that he left shortly after Queen Anne married Lord Grist. He's returned maybe a half-dozen times since, for brief stays, but the last of those was when I was still a young guardsman."

"His concern about the Iberians did seem genuine," Hal said. He frowned, remembering the way the Earl had bowed and apologized to him. He'd been... respectful_. But you don't know him. Eckhart has been a friend to your family for all of your life,_ he thought.

"So, have you decided to add Breckenridge to your council then?" asked Hesse.

"I... I don't know," Hal said. "I... I think maybe I'd better talk with Eckhart." He looked away from the captain, his thoughts continuing to race. _Breckenridge made a good point about Arthur not wanting peace at any price. And he said he'd be glad to be of use in whatever way I wanted. But what is it that I want?_

"Hal," Rory said, breaking in on his thoughts. "This isn't up to Eckhart. You are the Lord High Steward. This is your decision to make. Eckhart and Breckenridge will have to accept whatever choice you make." Hal looked up at him, his heart thudding.

_But what if I make the wrong one?_


	18. Chapter 17: Amy

_**Hello again! It's time for another update. Thanks again to all of you who are reading this. I appreciate it very much.  
**_

Amy was quiet, staring down into the coffee in her cup. The talk about Lord Breckenridge had been sobering. She hadn't realized how easy it could be for a clever man to steal the throne. She, Rory, and the Doctor had their work cut out for them, trying to keep Hal safe.

"Who would he use as a scapegoat? The Iberians?" she asked.

"They would be a good choice. There are many people here in the court who would be willing to believe that they were responsible for any ill which befell the kingdom," Lady Cecily said. "The animosity between our nations is long-standing and more than a few people here at court are unhappy at the prospect of their ambassador being here."

"It's scary how simple it could be," Amy murmured, shaking her head.

"Yes," Lady Cecily said, "it certainly is."

"How..." Amy's question was cut off by the door to the chamber banging open. Lady Cecily yelped in surprise and Amy turned to see Lord Eckhart striding in.

"That pompous, arrogant, overbearing..."

"Rolf! What are you doing?"

"... bas..."

"Rolf!" Lady Cecily's shout stopped her brother in mid-rant. He lifted his head to look at her and his eyes widened as he caught sight of Amy. "Close the door, compose yourself, and tell us what's going on," Lady Cecily continued in a more moderate tone.

"Of... of course," Eckhart replied, looking sheepish. "I... I didn't realize you weren't alone." He turned back to the door, closing it quietly.

"Your manner of entrance was unacceptable, whether I had company or not. Now, sit down and tell me what caused you to behave like a boar."

"I've just come from the Lord High Steward's chambers..."

"Hal? You're telling me that Hal prompted your rudeness..."

"Now who's forgotten her manners?" asked Eckhart. Lady Cecily smiled.

"Point taken. Go on."

"Hal had a guest. Lord Breckenridge has returned to court."

"Breckenridge!" Amy was startled. Eckhart looked at her in surprise.

"I was just telling Amy about him," Lady Cecily explained.

"We were trying to figure out who could be behind the attacks on Hal," Amy added, "although, Breckenridge showin g up now doesn't line up with our theory."

"Not at all. It's too soon," agreed Lady Cecily. She looked to her brother. "Why is he here, Rolf?"

"If you would let me finish, I would tell you," Eckhart said tersely. Lady Cecily said nothing, merely inclining her head. With a sigh, Eckhart continued. "He says he is here because he does not trust the Iberians, and their ambassador in particular. He met Arasand after the last war with Gauline, when Iberia sent mediators to the peace negotiations. The ba... He is insisting that Hal add him to his council for the duration of the Iberians' visit. Of course I told Hal that that was impossible. Breckenridge's animosity toward Arasand would make negotiations impossible."

"You think he's come to spoil the peace?" asked Amy.

"I don't know, but I don't trust the man. He's been away from court for years. Why return now? What is he after?"

"What did Hal say to his suggestion?"

"Nothing." Eckhart's frown deepened to a scowl. "We were cut off by your husband, who ordered both of us out. I don't know what's gotten into Master Williams. He was quite... impertinent with me this morning and then to interrupt in our discussion..." Amy was ready to protest, but Lady Cecily spoke before she could.

"Were you shouting during this 'discussion'?"

"We were... vigorously stating our positions. It is an important issue."

"If you were as 'vigorous' there as you were when you first came in here, I'm not surprised Rory asked you to leave," Amy said.

"He had no business interfering."

"You asked us to interfere," she retorted hotly, stung by the man's criticism of Rory. "You wanted our help."

"This was no help," snapped Eckhart. "If he'd stayed quiet, Hal could have told Breckenridge no and settled the matter once and for all. Instead, thanks to Master Williams's interference, the pompous ba... fool has set himself up in quarters here at the palace and is undoubtedly spreading dissention at the court as we speak."

"What makes you think Hal would have told Breckenridge no?" demanded Amy.

"I told him..."

"You gave Hal orders in front of Breckenridge? Oh Rolf." Lady Cecily shook her head.

"Of course I didn't give him orders," Eckhart protested. "I... advised him. That is my duty."

"Yeah, I've seen the way you 'advise,'" Amy said.

"Now you sound like your husband."

"Maybe you should listen to my husband."

"And perhaps he should listen to me. I've known Hal since he was born. I protected his mother and his brother."

"You're not protecting him. You're bossing him around."

"I am helping him!"

"I think he could do with a little less of your help."

"Mistress Pond..."

"Enough, Rolf!" Lady Cecily cut off her brother. "That's quite enough, from both of you," she continued in a quieter voice. "Shouting at one another accomplishes nothing."

"Who's shouting? We were discussing, vigorously," Amy said, sitting back in her chair and folding her arms across her chest. Eckhart opened his mouth to snap a retort and closed it again when Lady Cecily frowned at him.

"Amy, I think it might be best if you left me and my brother alone for a little while," she said. "You could take a walk in the gardens. I'll loan you a shawl. Perhaps after your walk, we can resume this dicussion, with less... vigor."

"Fine." Amy pushed back from the table and got to her feet. Lady Cecily and Eckhart stood as well.

"I'll be right back with that shawl." Amy nodded, turning to walk away from the table. Lady Cecily went into her bed-chamber and Amy went to the door. She waited there, her arms folded over her chest and one foot tapping a rhythm on the floor. Eckhart stood for a moment before, with a sigh, he turned his back on her and resumed his seat at the table. Amy made a face at him when he wasn't looking. She was fuming. How dare the man come in here and complain about Rory! He'd asked them to help Hal and as soon as Rory tried, he started criticizing. Amy's foot-tapping increased in speed as she scowled across the room.

Lady Cecily emerged from her bedchamber with the promised shawl and moved to join Amy. She handed over the shawl and Amy draped it over one arm to carry.

"I'm just going to show Amy how to get to the gardens, Rolf," Cecily said. Her brother nodded without turning to look at them and Cecily shook her head as she led Amy from the room. They turned left in the corridor and the older woman reached out to catch Amy's arm, linking hers through it.

"I'm not saying you aren't right, Amy," she murmured as they walked along, "but Rolf is in no frame of mind to listen to you at the moment."

"Hmph." Amy bit back a furious retort. She had an ally in Lady Cecily and she didn't want to ruin that.

"Give me a little time and I can bring him around," the older woman continued. "It's not easy for a man to admit he's wrong. Sometimes you need to guide him to that realization with a gentle hand."

"I'm not much for the gentle hand business," Amy admitted. Lady Cecily smiled.

"We all have our strengths, my dear."

"Rory is the gentle one, usually. If he ordered your brother and Breckenridge out, it had to be because he thought he was protecting Hal."

"Of course. I'm sure I can get Rolf to see that. He's not really angry at your husband; he's upset about Breckenridge being here, and about how he handled himself." Lady Cecily came to a stop. A short corridor ran off to Amy's left and she nodded toward it. "The door out into the gardens is just down there. I'll come and collect you when Rolf's calmed down enough to talk sensibly." She patted Amy's arm before drawing back.

"I'll see you in a little while then," Amy said. Lady Cecily nodded and Amy turned to go down the short corridor toward the door.

It was cool outside and Amy was glad to have the shawl to wrap around herself. The door opened onto a gravel path which went straight for a few yards before it branched. She stood at the first fork, trying to decide which way she wanted to go. If she turned left she would wind up passing near Lady Cecily's windows. She didn't want Eckhart to see her and think she was spying so she turned to her right.

The garden was quiet, save for the soft crunch of the gravel beneath her feet as she walked. There were no blooms to admire yet but the plants themselves created an interesting display of varying colors and textures. There were tall plants with vertical leaves and flower-stalks emerging from their center. There were shorter plants with flat oval leaves, and there were viney plants which sprawled over the beds in an unruly mess. The leaves ranged from a bright yellow-green to a shade so dark it was almost black. There were shiney leaves which looked almost plastic and there were others which appeared soft as velvet. The different sizes, shapes, and shades were skillfully arranged so that, even without flowers, each bed was eye-catching. Amy found she wasn't the least bit disappointed by the lack of blooms.

She had been walking for about five minutes when she heard a sound. She stopped moving and listened. It was coming from a place ahead of her on the path and it sounded like crying. She started forward again, moving slowly. The path widened just ahead. A small fountain sat in the center of the circle of gravel and as Amy drew closer, she saw that there were benches on two sides of the circle, facing the fountain. One of the benches was occupied. A blonde woman sat there, her head lowered and her hands covering her face. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed softly. Amy stopped, feeling torn. She didn't want to intrude, but at the same time she didn't feel she could just walk away. She started toward the woman slowly.

"Hey," she said softly. "Are you all right? Can I help you?" The woman lifted her head with a gasp and Amy came to a stop. She smiled what she hoped was an encouraing smile as she tried to figure out why the tear-streaked face was familiar. "Are you all right?" she repeated.

"Please, I... I wish to be left alone." The woman spoke with an accent.

"I'm sorry. I didn't meant to intrude. I was just taking a walk." Amy started to turn away and the woman spoke again.

"You... you speak Iberian."

"What?" Amy turned back in surprise. She'd forgotten about the TARDIS translation matrix. "I... I guess I do," she said, taking a step closer to the woman. She realized with a jolt who she was. "You're Count Arasand's wife, aren't you?" The Countess looked up at her with wide eyes.

"I... I am."

"What are you doing out here on your own? Don't you have... attendants?" Amy remembered seeing a couple of older women sitting with the Countess at the dinner the previous night.

"I... I slipped away when they weren't looking."

"How come?" Amy moved closer, dropping down onto the bench next to the woman. The Countess looked away, lifting her hands in a helpless gesture. "It's ok. You don't have to tell me."

"I just... needed a moment to myself. My... my husband..." She stopped, shaking her head. "I shouldn't be talking to you. If they find out..."

"It's ok," Amy said. "No one's here but us."

"No. I... I have to go back. They'll have missed me by now." The Countess got to her feet and Amy stood as well. The young woman took a couple of steps before turning back. "Thank you," she said. She whirled away again and hurried off, heading down the path toward the palace.

"But I didn't do anything," Amy muttered, watching the woman go.


	19. Chapter 18: Rory

_**Writing went so well this week that I'm far enough ahead to post a mid-week extra! Whoopee! **_

Hal stared up at Rory, his face pale. The chamber was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire, as everyone waited for him to respond. The silence stretched and Rory felt a mixture of guilt and aggravation. He hadn't meant to sound harsh when he'd told Hal that he had to make the decision about Breckenridge, but he had felt he had to speak up. Hal couldn't keep looking to others to make all the decisions.

"Hal." The Doctor spoke softly, calling the young man's gaze away from Rory. The Time Lord came closer to Hal's chair, crouching down next to it and putting a hand on one of his arms. "What do you think Arthur would do in this situation?"

"I... I don't know. How would I know?" Hal sounded close to tears.

"You grew up with him," the Doctor answered. "I doubt there's anyone who knows him better than you do."

"I don't... I don't know."

"Of course you do. Take a deep breath. Close your eyes if it helps. Imagine asking your brother about this situation. What do you think he'd advise?" Hal breathed in deeply, sinking back in the chair as he exhaled and closed his eyes. For a moment he said nothing. Hesse shifted his weight, looking impatient, and the Doctor held up a hand.

"He... he wouldn't want to add Breckenridge to his council," Hal said at last. "Not just because it would upset Eckhart, but because it might make the Iberians think that we don't want to make peace with them." Hal stopped, frowning.

"Go on, Hal," the Doctor urged.

"He... he wouldn't turn Breckenridge away either. He'd like the idea of having someone here who could help keep the Iberians honest." Hal opened his eyes. He was still pale but much of the tension had left his face. "I... I would like to ask Lord Breckenridge to remain as an unofficial advisor."

"Do you think he'll agree?" asked Hesse.

"He said he was willing to be of use in whatever way Hal felt was best," Rory said.

"Very well. If this is your decision..."

"It is," Hal said, his voice firm. The Doctor rose from his spot by the chair, beaming.

"Well done," he murmured, patting Hal's shoulder as he moved past the chair toward the table and windows.

"... then you just need to present it to Lord Eckhart and Lord Breckenridge," Hesse continued. Some of the tension came back into Hal's face and Rory spoke up.

"After you've had a chance to get dressed and eat something," he said. He looked at Hesse, daring the other man to argue, but the captain stayed quiet. He moved over to stand with the Doctor at one of the windows.

"I... I suppose I'd better get dressed," Hal said, looking up at Rory. "Would... would you mind helping me?"

"Sure." Rory reached out to pull away the blanket and Hal got to his feet. He seemed steady as he moved across the room toward his bed chamber. Rory followed after him, carrying the blanket. He glanced at Hesse and the Doctor as he went and saw that they were speaking together, their voices quiet.

When Hal and Rory returned to the outer chamber a few minutes later, they found Nevins setting out tea cups, water glasses, and plates not only for Hal but for Rory, the Doctor, and Hesse. There was a rack of toast in the center of the table, with small dishes of jams and butter around it as well as a platter of sliced meats and cheeses.

"I'm sorry for the delay, Your Lordship," Nevins said, bowing to Hal, "but when I learned you had company, I thought you might mean for them to join you for a mid-day meal."

"Thank you, Nevins," Hal replied. "That was very thoughtful." The servant nodded, looking pleased, before withdrawing. Hal moved to the table, motioning for the others to join him.

Hal's color had improved and Rory thought the worst of his headache and nausea were over. Nonetheless, he still advised caution. Hal started out with a cup of tea and a slice of plain toast, sipping and nibbliing slowly at first. By the time he finished, his confidence was back and he reached for one of the jam pots to add some of the spread to his second slice. He ate it with gusto before reaching for meats and cheese to make a sandwich. Rory was relieved to see him looking and acting better. When Hesse spoke up, he wanted to kick the man.

"I've been thinking, Your Lordship," the captain began. Hal paused, his sandwich half-way to his mouth.

"Yes," he said, his voice raspy.

"You do need to speak with Eckhart and Breckenridge, but perhaps you could have that conversation outside of the palace."

"Outside?" asked Hal. "I... I don't understand."

"It has been a couple of weeks since you've been for a ride, Your Lordship, and I know you must be missing it. I thought, and the Doctor agreed with me, that perhaps you could ride out in the park today. If Eckhart and Breckenridge joined you, you could give them your decision. You'd have more privacy out in the parkland than here in the palace."

"Do you... do you think it's safe for me to go riding?" Hal stared at Hesse, his eyes wide. There was fear there, but there was also hope.

"I believe we can make sure it's safe, Your Lordship. I will send out men ahead of us to scout the parkland and, of course, I will accompany you."

"Can Rory come too?" Rory started as Hal turned toward him. The Doctor looked over at him too, smirking. Rory huffed out a sigh.

"I can come if you'd like," he said. "The Doctor too," he added. shooting a smirk of his own at the Time Lord.

"Yes. Yes, I'd like that."

"Then, once we are finished eating, I'll arrange for men to start the patrol and you can send word to Eckhart and Breckenridge about joining you for a ride," Hesse said. Hal nodded, taking a large bite of his sandwich.

A short time later the group left Hal's chambers on their way to the palace stables. Hesse had sent men out to start the patrolof the parkland, and Hal had had his secretary send summonses to Breckenridge and Eckhart to join him for a ride. Hal had donned a cloak, a dark blue circle of woolen fabric with a red silk lining. Nevins had found another blue one for the Doctor to wear and a dark green one for Rory.

The sun was bright as they stepped out of the palace and for a second Rory wondered if the cloaks were really necessary. Then a stiff gust of wind hit him and he found himself drawing the woolen cloth closer around his torso. _Okay. Cloak stays_, he thought. Beside him Hal seemed unfazed by the breeze. His head was up and there was a spring in his step that Rory hadn't seen before. It was hard to imagine that this bright-eyed, eager-looking person was the same young man who'd been huddling beneath a blanket, hung-over and frightened, just a short time before.

"I take it you enjoy riding," Rory said to him. Hal looked over at him, his smile widening.

"Oh yes, very much. I always have. My father taught me to ride when I was little. I'm told he had me on horseback before I could even walk."

"Wow."

"What about you? When did you learn to ride?"

"It... it was a long time ago," Rory said, pushing the memory away. He knew it wasn't real, that it was just something made up to convince his Nestene duplicate that it was human, but the memory felt genuine. He could smell the fresh-turned soil of the fields, see the dappled sunlight along the dusty road, hear the call of the birds and the voice of his Roman father, telling him to keep his heels in. When the Doctor's hand landed on his arm, he started.

"We didn't have horses on Gallifrey," the Time Lord was saying. He gave Rory's arm a slight squeeze before dropping his hand away. Rory drew in a deep breath, struggling to shake off the uncomfortable, disconnected feeling which his Centurion memories always produced. Beside him the Doctor prattled on about his first time riding a horse (when he was one-hundred-and-fifty), pausing long enough to answer a question or two from Hal. To judge from the young man's face, those answers were creating more confusion than clarity. _Typical conversation with the Doctor_, Rory thought, his lips quirking in a smile.

Rory was surprised to find that, far from the wooden barn he'd been expecting, the royal stables were built of the same brick as the palace. The building was as large as one of the wings of the palace and stood two stories high, with windows spaced along near the roof-line and a wide door near the center of the building's length. Several men were leading saddled horses out of this door, and Rory spotted the gigantic figure of Lord Breckenridge waiting near them. He hoped the stables could furnish a horse large enough to support the man's frame.

"Your Lordship," Breckenridge said, stepping forward as they drew closer. He bowed low before Hal.

"My Lord Breckenridge," Hal replied. "I am glad you are able to join me."

"It is my pleasure, Sire." Breckenridge rose, nodding in acknowledgment to Hesse. To Rory's surprise, he also received a nod of greeting. The Earl's gaze came to rest on the Doctor. One bushy eyebrow lifted. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure," he said.

"This is a family friend, the... Doctor John Smith," Hal explained. "Dr. Smith, a cousin of my brother's, Lord Breckenridge, the Earl of Somermet."

"A pleasure," the Doctor said, accepting the giant hand Breckenridge offered. He winced slightly as they shook and Rory wondered if Breckenridge had squeezed his hand deliberately or if he simply didn't know his own strength.

"Where is Lord Eckhart?" Hal asked, looking over at the gathered horses.

"Eckhart is coming?"

"His Lordship asked for you both to come," Hesse said. Breckenridge started to scowl, then seemed to think better of it. His face cleared and he smiled at Hal.

"It is a wonderful day for a ride, Your Lordship. Look at that sky! Not a cloud to be seen! And the breeze! Most refreshing!" Hal returned the smile.

"In my opinion, Lord Breckenridge, there is no such thing as a bad day for a ride," he said. The Earl chortled, looking pleased, and the two men began to talk horses. Rory watched, continuing to be surprised at the change in Hal. He'd never seen the young man look so at ease.

A few minutes passed, with the men and the horses milling about as they waited. Hal still looked relaxed. He was standing with Breckenridge, admiring one of the horses.

"Damn it," Hesse muttered, glancing up at the sky, "where is Eckhart? Is he in such a pet that he's ignoring His Lordship's summonses now?"

"Here comes the Steward's secretary," the Doctor answered, nodding toward the path they'd used. Sure enough the short, heavy-set man who served as Hal's secretary was hurrying toward them. His round face was pink and his blonde hair, worn in a long page-boy style, was dissheveled. He scurried past them on his way toward Hal, dropping into a deep bow as he came into the young man's sight.

"Reynolds," Hal said, sounding surprised, "what is happening?"

"Beg pardon... Your Lordship... but I... I've come... to tell you... that I... can't... "

"Take a moment and breathe, Man," said Breckenridge. "Out. Exhale. Now in. Now speak."

"I... I was not able to... deliver your message to... Lord Eckhart, Sire," Reynolds said. "I was not able... to find him in the palace."

"You couldn't find him?"

"No, Your Lordship. I tried his quarters, the guards' quarters, the kitchens, the meeting rooms... everywhere I could think of. I do apologize, Sire."

"It's all right, Reynolds," Hal said. "I'm sure you did your best."

"It's hardly your fault if the fo... man has taken himself off somewhere," Breckenridge added.

"Well," Hal asked, glancing over at Hesse, Rory, and the Doctor, "shall we search for Eckhart or go on with our ride?"


	20. Chapter 19: The Doctor

_**Hello Readers! Nice to be seen by you! *waves* Thanks for coming by to read this story. If you like it, please feel free to send me a word or two in review. I'd love to hear from you! **_

The royal parkland was well-maintained, with smooth trails for riding and a good mix of older and younger trees. The trees along the path they took were thick, providing shade as well as protection. Even a skilled archer wouldn't be able to make a shot from off the trail. He'd have to come close to the edge, at which point Hesse would see him.

The captain of the guards alternated his position as they rode, at times taking the lead while at others dropping back behind the group. He didn't chat with anyone as they rode along, his attention focused on the trail and the surrounding trees. From time to time the Doctor spotted some of the guardsmen who'd been sent out to patrol. Some rode along parallel paths in the woods, while others were perched high in the trees to keep a look out.

Hal and Breckenridge rode along side-by-side, conversing easily. Rory was just behind them, moving up on Hal's other side when the trail widened enough for three men to ride abreast. The Doctor stayed back, letting the three men talk. He could see Hal grow tense and knew that he was about to ask Breckenridge to serve as an unofficial advisor. A few minutes later, the young man relaxed and the Doctor smiled. The Earl had agreed. _Now all that remains is telling Eckhart. That should be easier now that he has Breckenridge's agreement. Nothing like a little success to boost your confidence._

The trail curved ahead, turning in a wide arc to take them back toward the stables. As it narrowed, Breckenridge dropped back, letting Rory and Hal go ahead. He moved alongside the Doctor, looking over at the Time Lord.

"This ride was a wonderful idea," he said. "I take it that this was yours."

"Captain Hesse told me Hal was one of the finest horsemen in the country."

"And you thought what better way to give him a confidence boost before he has to have a difficult conversation."

"Well..."

"It was a good idea, Doctor Smith. He's a changed man out here."

"He is."

"Not that he needed to fear talking with me. I said I was willing to serve in whatever way he thought best and I meant it."

"I am glad to hear it."

"I've been away from court for many years. That wasn't out of disloyalty."

"What was it about?" the Doctor asked.

"At one time, there were... concerns about His Majesty. There were rumors that he was frail and sickly, that he might not live to his majority. There were rumblings in the court, concerns about Queen Anne's father, fears about Gauline or Iberia trying to take advantage of our leaderless state. Some of my countrymen pressed for me to make a bid for the throne."

"And?"

"I considered it, briefly. However, once Queen Anne brought His Majesty back from the countryside, I abandoned the idea. The boy appeared healthy and whole. I would have suspected the queen, or more likely her father, of substituting another child for Arthur, save that Lord Grist was with them. I knew he would never be a party to such a deception, nor would he ever support a pretender to the throne. I thought the quickest way to end the talk of me bidding for the crown was to withdraw from the court, so that is what I did."

"And you've stayed away all this time."

"Yes. I had no need to return. The kingdom was in good hands and I had estates to manage, a lovely and intelligent wife to keep me company, and two sons to raise. I was quite content, buried in the countryside, and I would have happily remained there if it weren't for this business with Arasand and the Iberians."

"How did you learn about Arasand's presence?"

"I received a note, telling me that he was part of an Iberian party coming to court. It was signed 'A Friend to Umbria.'" Breckenridge sighed. "In truth, I was as concerned about the anonymous note as I was about Arasand's presence. I left my home the same day I received it."

"You think the letter writer is a danger to Hal?"

"I think people who hide behind anonymous notes are not to be trusted."

"Why do you suppose the note-writer sent you the message? What would be gained by bringing you to court?"

"That is a good question, Doctor Smith, but I have a better one." The Earl's voice was light and pleasant. The Doctor glanced over at him, lifting a brow.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Who are you and your friends, Doctor Smith?" Breckenridge was looking straight ahead rather than at him and the Doctor looked in that direction too. He realized for the first time just how far back from the others he and the Earl were. Hal and Rory were several yards ahead on the trail, and Hesse a couple of yards in front of them. None of them seemed aware of what was happening behind them.

"We... we are cousins, to Queen Anne..."

"Do not lie to me." The Earl didn't raise his voice. "I may have been away from court for a few years, but I am not without friends here. I asked about you three after I encountered Master DuPond in His Lordship's chambers. No one was able to tell me much, beyond the fact that the three of you first appeared yesterday. Your servants say you have no luggage, and the stable-lads report that you have neither horses nor carriage."

"We... we travel by different means. We a..." The Doctor stopped speaking as the Earl suddenly reached out to catch hold of the back of his neck.

"I have tolerated you and your friend up to this point, Doctor, because I did not wish to offend His Lordship. However, if you don't tell me who you are and why you are here in the next few minutes, I will snap your skinny neck." The Doctor wished he could turn his head to look at the man, but the grip on his neck prevented that.

"I don't owe you any explanations, Breckenridge," he said after a moment, putting as much force into his voice as his constricted throat would allow. "His Lordship trusts us. Are you questioning his judgment?" The Earl was silent. After a second his grip loosened and the Doctor turned his head to look at him. The man was frowning, looking more thoughtful than angry. He seemed about to speak when his eyes widened.

"Look out!" he shouted, lunging toward the Doctor. A second later something small and hard hit the back of the Doctor's head. Pain shot through his skull and his vision turned to static. He would have slumped and probably fallen from the horse if not for the strong hand gripping his shoulder. He could feel himself moving and realized he was still on his horse. The Earl was holding him upright as they moved. He could hear more shouting and a few minutes later a second hand caught hold of his other shoulder.

"We've got you, Doctor," said a familiar voice.

"Rory."

"I'm here."

"Hal..."

"Hesse is taking him back to the palace. At the rate they were moving, they're probably already there."

"Don't worry about His Lordship, Smith. Concentrate on not falling off of the horse." Breckenridge punctuated his words by tightening his grip on the Doctor's shoulder. His vision was returning and he lifted his head cautiously.

"Careful," Rory warned him.

"What... what happened?"

"Someone lobbed a rock at you," Breckenridge answered. "From a sling, most likely."

"They must have thought you were Hal," Rory added. "Your cloaks are nearly identical."

"Mm."

"If you are steady enough, Smith, I'll leave you two now," Breckenridge said.

"Leave?" asked Rory. "Where are you going?"

"Back to the scene of the attack."

"But..."

"The perpetrator is long-gone, I'm sure, but perhaps I can find some clue as to who he was or where he came from."

"Shouldn't you wait for Hesse?"

"Tell him to come and join me," answered Breckenridge. He released the Doctor's arm and swung his horse around, galloping back in the direction they'd come from. Rory stared after him for a moment before looking to the Doctor.

"It's not far now," he said, looking ahead of them on the trail. The Doctor started to nod but stopped when it made pain stab into his head. "How are you feeling?" Rory continued. "Are you dizzy? Nauseous?"

"My head hurts."

"Yeah." Rory looked over at him, his frown deepening. "You and Breckenridge were pretty far behind us when this happened. What were you two being so slow about?"

"The Earl wanted to ask me something."

"Ask you what?"

"Who we really are."

"What?" Rory's eyes widened. "Why... why would he ask that?"

"After he met you, he became concerned about your... influence over Hal. He made inquiries. Eckhart's cover story didn't hold up to questioning. The Earl was able to find out that we had no luggage, no horses, and no carriage. Also that we arrived at about the same time the Parliament building exploded. It made him suspicious."

"What did you tell him?"

"That Hal trusts us."

"Did he accept that?"

"I think so. I got hit in the head by a rock a moment later though so I can't be sure."

"Doctor..." Rory sighed, shaking his head. "We need to talk to Eckhart about this. If Breckenridge can learn all that..."

"Who knows how many other people know that we're not what we claim to be," finished the Doctor.


	21. Chapter 20: Hal

_**Hello Readers! Here we go with our next installment. I hope you'll enjoy it!**_

Hal's heart was racing as he leaned over his horse's neck. The animal was galloping, carrying him as quickly as possible toward the stables. Hesse was beside him, urging on his own horse. They'd left Rory, the Doctor, and Lord Breckenridge behind on the trail. Hal had only gotten a brief glimpse of the Doctor after the attack. The man's face had been grey, his eyes half-closed as he swayed in the saddle. If it hadn't been for Breckenridge, he would have fallen. Hal had been torn between wanting to flee and wanting to help. Rory had turned his mount to go back to his friend and Hal had been about to turn to follow him when Hesse had leaned over, slapping Hal's horse on the rear to urge it forward. He'd shouted for Hal to stay down as they'd raced off, leaving the others to follow as best they could.

The stable attendants must have heard them coming, for a group of them were waiting outside the main entrance as Hal and Hesse came racing up. The men started forward to take the animals but Hesse waved them back, shouting at Hal to go on into the stable. He complied, slowing his horse as they went through the double-doors. The doors led into a large wide hall, stopping in a open space in the center of the building. Aisles stretched to Hal's left and right, lined by stalls on both sides. The door to the tack room was in front of him. The high windows let in plenty of light, making the space feel even larger than it was.

For a second Hal stayed in the saddle, trying to catch his breath. He could feel the horse breathing heavily beneath him and he reached out to pat the side of the animal's neck.

"Good lad," he murmured and the horse neighed, nodding his head. The stable attendants came to stand nearby and Hal slipped from the saddle, reaching out to loosen the girth. One of the attendants stepped up beside him.

"I can see to that, Your Lordship," he said, reaching for the girth. Hal stepped back, reaching out to pat the horse's neck again.

"Give him a good cool down," he instructed, "and an extra treat."

"Yes, Sir."

"Thank you." Hal turned away, looking toward the stable entrance. Hesse's horse was a few feet away. The captain was already out of the saddle.

"Your Lordship," he said as Hal approached, "we must get you to the palace."

"What about the others?"

"I will see to them once you are secure, Your Lordship."

"Secure?" Hal gave a scornful laugh even as he started toward the palace. Hesse fell into step beside him. "What makes you think being inside the palace will make me secure?"

"My men will be there to guard you."

"The way they did out in the parkland today? Or when someone filled the cellar of the Parliament building with gunpowder?" Hal looked over at the captain, scowling. "Or perhaps it will be the same sort of protection I received when someone poisoned berries in the kitchens." Hesse's face flushed.

"Your Lordship, please," he said. Hal shook his head and quickened his pace. The sooner he got into the palace, the sooner he could send Hesse to help Rory and the Doctor.

Hal strode through the doors into the palace, ready to turn and order Hesse to go, and came to a stop as he saw Eckhart approaching, with Amy and an older woman behind him.

"Your Lordship!" Eckhart exclaimed. "What's happened? Are you all right? You're not injured?"

"Where's Rory?" Amy asked. "The Doctor? Aren't they with you?"

"They aren't here yet," Hesse began. "His Lordship..."

"Can speak for himself," Hal said tersely. "I'm in the palace now. Go and help Rory and the Doctor."

"Help them?" demanded Amy. "Why do they need help? What's happened?"

"There was an attack..." Hal shot a glare at Hesse and he stopped. "As you said, I have my orders." He bowed and turned to go. Hal waited until he saw the man step out the door before he turned back to Amy. Her scowl was unnerving but he could see the fear in her eyes as well. He took a deep breath.

"We rode out in the parkland," he said. "On our way back there was... an attack. Someone threw a stone. The Doctor..."

"Where is he?" Amy started forward. The older woman reached out to catch her arm, bringing her to a stop.

"Rory is with him, and so is Lord Breckenridge. They were getting him back as quickly as they could."

"You left them." Hal cringed at the contempt in her voice, his stomach twisting.

"I did," he said. "I... I'm sorry. I... I should have stayed, helped. I..."

"You did what you had to do," Eckhart said. "You are the Lord High Steward. Your safety is the kingdom's safety."

"Rolf." The older woman standing behind Amy spoke softly. "I think perhaps we should have this conversation somewhere a little more... private."

"I'm not leaving," Amy said. "I'm waiting right here for my husband and my friend."

"I'll wait too," Hal told her. "Unless you'd rather..." He let his voice trail off as she scowled at him. After a second she looked away.

"It's your palace," she muttered. She folded her arms over her chest, staring toward the door.

"You say Lord Breckenridge was with you?" asked Eckhart. "How? Why?"

"Rolf, this is not the place..." began the older woman. Hal spoke over her.

"I invited him. I invited you too, or tried to at least. My secretary couldn't locate you."

"I... I was with my sister," Eckhart said, gesturing to the woman beside him, "and Mistress Po... DuPond."

"Well, when you couldn't be found, we decided to go on without you." The creaking of hinges made Hal turn away. The door was swinging open and Hesse was stepping in. Rory and the Doctor came in behind him. Hal was relieved to see the Doctor walking even if he was leaning on Rory for support. His eyes were open and the terrible pallor was gone from his face. The two had barely taken two steps into the palace before Amy rushed toward them. Rory waved her back with his free hand.

"It's ok. We're ok," he said. "Mostly."

"What happened?"

"Someone slung a rock at me," the Doctor answered. His voice was clear and he sounded almost cheerful. His chipper tone was belied when his next step faltered. Rory's hold kept him upright.

"I need to get him to our chambers," Rory told Amy.

"Use mine," Hal said quickly. "They're closer, and there are no stairs to climb." He motioned toward the hall and Rory turned in that direction. Hal hurried to get into the hall ahead of them. He told himself he wanted to help, but he knew he also wanted to avoid getting even a glimpse of the back of the Doctor's head.

"What should I have Nevins bring?" he asked Rory.

"Warm water and rags for washing the wound and bandages."

"Right." Hal nodded and quickened his steps, jogging on toward his quarters.

Nevins wasn't in the outer chamber. Hal found him in his bed-chamber, laying out an outfit.

"Your Lordship! What..."

"The Doc... Doctor Smith has been hurt. Master DuPond needs warm water and rags and bandages," Hal said.

"I'll get them at once, Sire." Nevins gave a half-bow and hurried from the room. Hal followed, watching as the servant stepped back to let Rory, the Doctor, and Amy into the chamber before hurrying out the door.

"He's going for the supplies you need," Hal said, staying in the doorway.

"Good," Rory said. "Amy, get one of the chairs from the table. Ok, Doctor. Just sit here... no, turn it around, Amy." Hal watched as Rory helped steer the Doctor into one of the chairs so that he was straddling the seat and facing the back. The Doctor leaned his chest into the slats, tipping his head down so that Rory could examine the wound on the back of his head.

"How bad is it?" Amy asked.

"I don't think it's very deep," Rory answered, moving aside the Doctor's hair carefully. The Doctor didn't flinch but Hal couldn't help but wince. "He shouldn't need stitches."

"How exactly did this happen?"

"I don't really know."

"I was riding with Lord Breckenridge," the Doctor said, his voice muffled. "Rory and Hal were ahead of us on the trail, and Hesse was out in front of them. Breckenridge and I were... talking when someone lobbed a stone at me."

"Breckenridge thought it was probably from a sling," Rory added.

"A sling-shot?" Amy sounded incredulous. "What, you were attacked by a child?"

"Some of the guards use them," Hal said, prompting Amy to turn to look at him. "They're small, easy to carry in a pocket, and you can find stones to use nearly anywhere."

"Why would one of your guards lob a rock at the Doctor?" she asked.

"I... I don't know."

"Maybe because Eckhart hasn't done a very good job with our cover story," Rory said.

"What?" Amy looked away from Hal to her husband.

"Breckenridge was questioning the Doctor about who we really are when the attack happened."

"He was able to find out pretty quickly that we have no luggage and no means of transportation," the Doctor said, lifting his chin to look at Amy. Rory nudged him to lower his head again. He continued, his voice muffled once more. "Add in the fact that we arrived at the same time as the Parliament building exploded and he is a bit suspicious."

"Great," Amy muttered.

"I... I'm sorry," Hal said. "I... I thought..." He fell silent as the door from the hall opened. Nevins entered the room with a large tray. Hal stayed in the doorway, trying not to cringe as Rory, with assistance from Nevins and Amy, washed the Doctor's wound and bandaged it. It wasn't until the bandaging was finished and the injury was hidden from view that Hal dared moved away from the door-frame. Even then he still felt a little queasy when he looked at the Doctor. A square bandage had been pressed against the wound, held in place by a strip of cloth wrapped around his head. It looped from the bandage low on the back of the Doctor's head and up over his ears and across his forehead, where it was half-hidden by his fringe. The look would have been comical if Hal hadn't been aware of the injury that necessitated it.

"If you have no further need of me, Sir, I'll withdraw," Nevins said as Hal drew near.

"Yes, thank you," Hal told him. The servant started to bow but he stopped, looking startled.

"My apologies, Your Lordship. I nearly forgot. A note was delivered for you earlier," he said.

"A note?"

"Yes, Sire. I left it in your bed-chamber, on your dressing table."

"Thank you, Nevins, for all of your help." The servant responded with a deep bow before leaving the room. Hal glanced at the others. Amy, Rory, and the Doctor were gathered together, the Doctor still in the chair, and seemed to be paying no attention to him. He turned, going back into his bedroom and crossing to his dressing table. The note was a small square of parchment, sealed with a daub of wax. Hal didn't recognize the emblem stamped in the wax. He stared at it for a second before he bent the parchment and broke the seal.

The note was from Arasand, thanking Hal for the comfortable chambers assigned to him and his party. Hal skimmed over the flowery language, until he reached the final paragraph. He stopped, re-reading it as his heart pounded.

_I have spoken to the lady you so admired last night, and she is most eager to express her gratitude for your hospitality. I hope you will be able to receive her thanks soon._

"Hal?" Rory's voice came from the doorway and Hal started, turning to look at him even as he crumpled the note in his hand. "Amy and I are going to take the Doctor to our chambers now."

"Are... are you sure he's ok to go up the stairs?"

"He should be fine," Rory answered. "We'll be with him." He started to turn away but paused, looking back at Hal.

"Are you all right?"

"I... I'm fine," Hal said. "Just... had a rough day." Rory stared for a second longer before he nodded and turned away. Hal waited until he was gone before opening his hand to reveal the crumpled note. He stared at it for a second before striding over to the fireplace. The fire was barely more than embers but the parchment caught when he tossed it in. Once it was blackened, he turned away and returned to the outer chamber to see his guests off.


	22. Chapter 21: Amy

_**Hello again, Readers, and welcome back! I hope you'll enjoy our next installment. Thank you for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing my scribbles. I appreciate it! **_

The Doctor was quiet as they made their way up the stairs and down the corridor toward their rooms. Rory stayed close beside him, reaching out a hand to steady him from time to time. Amy trailed behind them. She wanted to shout at somebody, but she wasn't sure where she'd like to start. Hal was a good target, both for his abandoning of Rory and the Doctor after the attack and for his general aura of uselessness. There was Eckhart, who asked them for help but then argued with them when they tried to give it and, apparently, didn't bother to back up the cover story he created for them. Lord Breckenridge could do with a tongue-lashing too, if only for riding off before Rory and the Doctor were safely back to the palace. Hesse deserved the same fate, and perhaps a bit more since he was supposed to be keeping Hal safe. She was even tempted to yell at Rory and the Doctor. The decision to ride, with Breckenridge of all people, the choice of the matching cloaks - it all smacked of a bad idea from the Doctor.

By the time they reached their rooms, Amy was ready to burst. While Rory guided the Doctor over to a chair in front of the fireplace, she checked the bed chambers to make sure they were alone. Once she'd confirmed that the servants weren't present, she strode over to the fireplace. Rory looked up as she approached and his worried frown deepened.

"Amy..."

"What were the two of you thinking?" she demanded, ignoring him. Rory glanced at the Doctor before speaking up.

"Hal needed to ask Breckenridge for his help and he's an excellent horseman. The Doctor thought that would make him feel more confident..."

"And then you took a matching cloak! Are you trying to make yourself a target?"

"No," the Doctor answered, grimacing as he shifted in the chair.

"Hesse sent out men ahead of us to search the area we were riding in, to make sure it was safe," Rory said. "We thought if we stayed in the parkland..."

"Well, you thought wrong."

"Apparently," the Doctor murmured, flinching as he shifted again. Amy felt a pang of guilt. Rory hadn't missed the winces either.

"You've hurt more than your head," he said, sounding worried.

"What? Oh. No, this is from earlier."

"Earlier?" asked Amy, glancing at Rory and seeing her concern mirrored in his face. "What happened earlier?"

"I sparred with Hesse. I found him at practice with some of his men and..."

"You what?" demanded Rory.

"... he challenged me. I chose a staff. He used a sword..."

"Doctor!" Amy protested.

"I wasn't hurt. I just aggravated some of yesterday's bruises."

"Bruises. Right." Rory huffed out a sigh. "Ok. C'mon, Doctor. You need to change your tunic - you've got blood all over the collar of that one - and I want to see those bruises. I'll help you change and make sure you've got nothing worse than bruises." The Doctor pulled a face, clearly ready to object, and Amy scowled at him. When he glanced at her she shook her head slightly and he sighed, his shoulders slumping.

"Ok," he said meekly. He got to his feet and moved toward his bed chamber, with Rory close behind him.

Amy waited until they were gone before she huffed out a sigh of her own and dropped into a chair. Her frustration was evaporating, replaced by weariness. She started to slump in the seat but the corset she was wearing prevented it. She shifted in the chair, trying to get more comfortable. She was starting to hate the corset. It wasn't tight or pinching but wearing it forced her to maintain perfect posture. The muscles in her core were tired and she really wanted to slouch for a few minutes.

She'd just shifted into a half-way comfortable position in the chair when there was a knock on the chamber door. She groaned and pushed herself up, muttering as she walked to the door. When she opened it she was surprised to find a livery-clad man standing there. He wore a tunic of bright red trimmed in gold, with a shield on the left breast. His black breeches were very snug, showing off well-muscled legs. He had dark brown hair, worn close-cropped, and a neatly trimmed mustache. He made a sweeping bow as soon as Amy finished opening the door.

"Mistress DuPond," he said as he rose, "I've come to apologize for the delay with your luggage." Amy stared at him in confusion.

"My what?"

"Your luggage. I know you were expecting it hours ago but there was some... difficulty in getting His Lordship's items brought into the palace and we've only just now been able to start separating your items and those of your husband and your friend from the rest." He paused, holding her gaze for a second. She had the feeling he was trying to tell her something with that look and she shook her head slightly to let him know she wasn't getting the message. "If you will permit me to come inside, I can explain more fully."

"Uh... yeah. Ok." Amy moved back out of the doorway, making room for the man to come in. He stepped in, coming to a stop to one side of the door. He waited there as she closed the door, not moving even after it was shut. "All right. Who are you," she asked, "and what do you want?"

"I've come from Lord Breckenridge," the man said.

"Breckenridge? What does he want?" Amy asked. The man ignored her question.

"Luggage will be sent up to you as soon as can be arranged, and servants to unpack it and look after your needs," he continued.

"We don't need luggage, or new servants."

"His Lordship also asks that you and your companions join him for supper this evening, in his chambers," the messenger said, paying no attention to Amy's objection. "I will come to collect you promptly at seven." He bowed and turned for the door.

"Wait a minute," Amy protested. "I didn't say we'd..." The man ignored her, stepping out of the room and closing the door quietly behind him. Amy stared at the closed door for a second before turning away and calling out.

"Rooorrrry!" She heard a shuffling sound from the bedroom and Rory appeared in the doorway a moment later.

"Amy? What's wrong?"

"There was a man here. Breck..."

"Is he still here?"

"No, but..."

"I'm almost finished with the Doctor. Give us a minute and you can tell us both what happened." Rory disappeared back into the bedroom. Amy stared after him, feeling a surge of irritation. _Is __no one__ going to listen to me? _She blew out a sigh and shook her head. _Be fair. He's taking care of the Doctor._

Rory and the Doctor joined her a few minutes later. She'd moved away from the door and was pacing in front of the fireplace, her arms folded over her chest. Her initial shock at the behavior of Breckenridge's man was gone. Now she was angry, frustrated, and concerned.

"Ok," Rory said, steering the Doctor toward one of the chairs. "What happened?"

"A man came to the door," Amy began. She went on to explain the encounter, including the way the man had ignored her protests. "Apparently he's going to turn up at seven this evening to take us to supper, whether we want to go or not," she finished.

"O...kay," Rory said, glancing at the Doctor. The Time Lord was silent, his fingers tented in front of his face and his expression thoughtful.

"He's trying to give us a better cover story," he murmured at last. "His luggage, his servants - now everyone will think we're part of his party, a group sent in advance perhaps."

"And meanwhile he can keep track of what we're doing through his servants," Amy said. "I don't like it. For all we know, he's the one behind these attacks on Hal."

"If that were the case then surely Hal would have been the one hit with the rock, not the Doctor. Breckenridge knew which man was which. He could have signaled the attacker," Rory said.

"Maybe he intended for the attacker to hurt the Doctor," Amy countered.

"Why would he want that?"

"He knows we're Eckhart's friends," Amy said, ticking off the points on her fingers. "He doesn't trust us, he knows we're trying to help Hal..."

"I don't think Breckenridge is trying to harm Hal," the Doctor said, "and I don't think he has any deep-seated animosity toward Eckhart. He's impatient with him and thinks he's making mistakes, but it doesn't feel personal to me."

"I agree," added Rory. "He said he's willing to serve in whatever way Hal wants and he didn't protest when Hal asked him to be an unofficial advisor rather than giving him a seat on the council."

"I don't know." Amy chewed her bottom lip for a moment, thinking about what Lady Cecily had told her about Breckenridge. _But she's Eckhart's sister, and Eckhart clearly sees the Earl as some sort of rival. She might mean well, but she's biased. _

"I think we should go to the supper and hear the man out," Rory said.


	23. Chapter 22: Rory

_**Insert witty, thankful, nice comment here. I'd say this means you get to customize the comment to be just what you'd want but the truth is my brain is too tired to come up with anything. **_

The servant arrived at seven, as he'd said he would. Luggage and new attendants had come a few hours earlier. The new servants seemed just as pleasant as the previous ones but Rory did wonder how things had been explained to Humphrey, Jaron, and Mina. He hoped they didn't think they'd done anything wrong. He'd accepted his new attendant's help changing and Amy had reluctantly agreed to don one of the new gowns. The Doctor changed as well, ignoring Rory's suggestion that he stay behind and get some rest. The laceration on the back of his head had stopped bleeding and he'd insisted on removing the bandage. To Rory's relief, his other injuries had proven to be nothing more serious then bruises. He was moving a little more slowly than usual but, given his clumsiness, Rory didn't think that was necessarily a bad thing.

Breckenridge's chambers were downstairs, in a wing which ran parallel to the one containing Hal's rooms. There were more tapestries on the walls and Rory had to nudge the Doctor along when he stopped to lift the visor on a polished suit of armor. Amy smirked at the sight but resumed her frown as soon as she realized Rory was watching. He sighed. He knew she was annoyed by Breckenrdige's high-handed way of doing things but he still felt they should hear the man out.

The servant stopped in front of a large door and pushed it open, turning to one side and motioning for them to go in. The Doctor went first. Amy started to follow him but Rory caught her arm to stop her. She stared as he offered his arm and for a second he thought she was going to refuse to take it. To his relief, she yielded and they walked into the room arm-in-arm.

The room was similar to their own quarters, only much larger. There were three chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and the candles were lit in all of them. Their light filled the room and glinted off of the gold thread in Breckenridge's tunic. He had the Doctor's hand clasped in one of his meaty paws; the other was resting on the Time Lord's shoulder. He turned from his greeting of the Doctor to beam at Amy and Rory as they approached.

"Master DuPond, Mistress DuPond! I am so pleased you have come." Breckenridge released the Doctor and stepped toward them, reachingfor Amy's free hand. He bowed over it, his full beard and mustache enveloping the appendage for a second. He released her and turned to Rory, reaching out to clasp his hand with one of his giant paws. To Rory's relief, the handshake was firm but not bone-crushing. Apparently the Earl was aware of his own strength, though, to judge from the way Amy rubbed her hand against her dress, not the effect of his facial hair on lady's hands.

"I trust the luggage arrived and you found suitable items within it. And the servants - I hope they are proving satisfactory as well."

"Yeah, they... they seem nice," Rory said, glancing at Amy. She was scowling but at least she didn't contradict him.

"They understand the importance of keeping to themselves anything which they might overhear in your chambers," Breckenridge told him. He gestured for the group to move with him and they strolled over to the fireplace. A servant appeared with goblets and a jug of wine. They continued to talk as the drinks were poured and distributed.

"I take it your plan is to make it appear that we are with your party," the Doctor said.

"Yes. That seemed the best way to try to... un-do the damage of Eckhart's carelessness. Now the story will be that you came ahead of the rest of my party and, as you got here before us, had neither luggage nor attendants. Eckhart lended some to you until we could arrive."

"And our relationship to Hal?" Amy asked. "What are you doing with that part of the story?"

"We won't contradict the story that you are distant relations to Queen Anne - it would only raise questions if we did. We simply have added the information that you are part of my entourage and under my protection."

"I see." Amy was still frowning. "So you've decided you can trust us then."

"Captain Hesse assures me that he is aware of who you really are and that you are trustworthy, Mistress DuPond."

"And that's good enough for you?" Rory flinched at the challenge in Amy's voice.

"He gave me his word of honor. _That_ was good enough for me."

"Ah." The Doctor nodded. "The word of a soldier."

"The word of a man of integrity," Breckenridge replied. "Unfortunately, as we learned this afternoon, not all soldiers are trustworthy."

"What do you mean?" Rory asked.

"When I rode back to look for clues to the perpetrator, I found that he'd dropped his sling. Hesse identified it as one from the royal stores. He checked the records and three of the men he sent out today were recently issued slings. One of those men did not return from the parkland after our ride today. He..."

"He escaped?" Amy sounded outraged. "But I thought the parkland was fenced. How could he have gotten out?"

"He couldn't have," Breckenridge answered. "However, the parkland is very large and would offer a man several places to hide."

"Or he's dead," Rory said. Amy turned to look at him and Breckenridge nodded.

"The actual attacker might have killed him and then took his sling to cover up the loss of his own. We have considered that as well. Hesse is having all of the men who were part of the party watched."

There was a knock on the chamber door and Breckenridge excused himself, moving to greet the new guest once the servant admited him. Hesse entered and Breckenridge spoke quietly with him, leaving Amy, Rory, and the Doctor alone by the fireplace for a few minutes. The Doctor swirled the wine in his goblet, sniffing at it. Amy sighed.

"Don't," she said.

"Don't what?" he asked.

"You know you're just going to wind up spitting it out."

"No I don't. Maybe I'll like it."

"Doctor..."

"You've been hit in the head twice in the past two days," Rory said, reaching out to take the goblet. "No wine for you." He turned, looking for somewhere to put the goblet, and found Hesse approaching. The captain reached out to take the wine from him.

"Thank you, Master DuPond. Doctor Smith, I am glad to see you up and about and looking well."

"Thank you, Captain," the Doctor replied. "I was just assuring my friends that I feel fine."

"That's good to hear." Hesse looked to Amy. "Mistress DuPond, you look lovely as ever. I hope you weren't too alarmed by this afternoon's events."

"What, just because you abandoned my best friend while he was wounded and bleeding?"

"Amy," Rory protested. "He had to protect Hal."

"Right."

"I am sorry, Mistress DuPond. I wish I could have been in two places at once. I did not like riding off and leaving Doctor Smith and Master DuPond behind." Amy opened her mouth to say something and Rory cut her off.

"Breckenridge told us about your missing man," he said. "Do you think he could have been the attacker?"

"No," Hesse said, shaking his head. "I've known Hibbert for a long time and he's never done anything to make me doubt his loyalty."

"He might be innocent," the Doctor said.

"For his family's sake, I pray that is true. Losing him will be hard for them, but not so hard as losing him to a traitor's death." Hesse sighed. "If you'd asked me before today, I would have told you that none of my men have ever given me cause to doubt their loyalty. Now I must look at all of them with suspicion." Rory grimaced, half-listening as the Doctor made sympathetic noises. Breckenridge hadn't rejoined them and he looked around, trying to find the man. He spotted him near a long table, talking quietly with a servant. He noted with surprise that the table was set for six. The servant seemed emphatic, gesturing at the table and the Earl nodded. He stepped away from the table and approached the group at the fireplace.

"It was my hope that Lord Eckhart would join us this evening," he said, "and I've been delaying the start of our meal to give him more time to arrive. However, my staff tell me that if they don't serve us soon, the food will be over-done and they will be embarrassed to serve it."

"You invited Eckhart?" Amy asked. "Why?"

"It was my hope that we might make peace, or at least declare a truce, this evening," Breckenridge answered.

"Did you really think he would come?" Amy accepted the arm Breckenridge offered, letting him lead her toward the table. The others followed.

"I hoped he would. It seems I am to be disappointed." He released Amy's arm and drew back a chair for her. The others moved to claim seats for themselves. Rory took one across from his wife. Hesse sat beside him. The Doctor was across the table from him. Breckenridge sat at the head of the table.

Servants arrived a few minutes later, bringing in bowls and a tureen of soup. They'd just finished filling the last bowl when there was a knock on the chamber door. One of the servants went to answer it and Breckenridge got to his feet. Rory was seated facing the door but Amy had her back to it. She tried to turn in the chair to look, but something prevented her.

"Blasted corset," she muttered. The Doctor snickered, and Hesse blushed.

"Eckhart!" Breckenridge cried. "I'm so pleased you've come." He moved away from the table to greet his guest, clasping his hand and shaking it even as he steered the smaller man toward the table.

"Your invitation was... unexpected," Eckhart said, looking around the table at everyone. He seemed flabbergasted, both by Breckenridge's enthusiastic greeting and the presence of the others.

"Please, sit, eat. We have things to discuss but that will keep until we've had our meal," Breckenrdige told the man. Eckhart took the offered chair, still looking confused, and the Earl moved back to his seat.

Conversation was awkward as the meal progressed. Breckenridge tried to keep things light but as Rory, Amy, and the Doctor weren't from Umbria, they had little to contribute to discussions of the weather or changes in the capital city. Hesse tried to help but Eckhart remained silent.

They were on to dessert (a light pastry filled with sweet cream and topped with berries) when Eckhart finally spoke.

"I have been patient, Lord Breckenridge, because I did not wish to spoil anyone's meal, but can we come to the point now please?"

"Certainly," the Earl answered, his tone pleasant. "I invited everyone here to join me this evening because I believe we are united in a common cause. We want to keep the kingdom safe during His Majesty's absence."

"Do we?" asked Eckhart.

"Yes," Breckenridge replied. "Eckhart, I do not know what I've done to offend you..."

"What has he done?" interrupted the Doctor.

"Doctor, you... that is not... appropriate," sputtered Eckhart.

"It's a fair question," countered Hesse. "If you gentlemen are to make peace, I think you have to answer it."

"I.. I do not think this is the time or place," the man said haughtily.

"Actually," Rory said, "I think it is. You accepted the Earl's invitation..."

"I accepted an invitation to a meal, not an interrogation!"

"This is hardly an interrogation," Hesse protested.

"The man invited you here to make peace with you. The least you could do is tell him what he's done to make you so angry," Amy said.

"I... I can't."

"Really, Eckhart..." began Hesse. The Doctor cut him off.

"You really can't, can you?"

"I... no. I can't. Doctor..." Eckhart's bluster was gone. He looked terrified. "I... I try to remember and... there's nothing. Just this... overwhelming feeling of hatred. What... what's happened to me?"


	24. Chapter 23: The Doctor

_**Hello again, Readers. While we wait in anticipation for the revelation of who will be playing Twelve, here's another installment from my favorite Doctor. **_

Eckhart was panicking, his eyes huge and his breathing rapid. Everyone else in the room had fallen silent. The Doctor could feel them watching him, waiting to see what he would say next. He kept his eyes on Eckhart.

"How... how can I have these thoughts in my head?" the man asked. "They aren't mine. I don't know where they came from."

"It's all right, Rolf," the Doctor told him, speaking quietly.

"You have to help me!"

"I will." The Doctor pushed his chair back from the table, intending to stand. Amy's hand fell on his arm, making him hesitate.

"What are you going to do?" she asked softly. He could feel her worry, and Rory's as well. He tried to project as much confidence as he could in his voice.

"Help him," he answered, getting to his feet. He started toward Eckhart, only to see the main recoil from his approach.

"Stay... stay back! I... I don't want to hurt you!"

"You won't," the Doctor told him, coming to a stop. "Talk to me, Rolf. Tell me about yourself. Tell me about your childhood. Where did you grow up?"

"On... on an estate. My... my father was... the tutor there. To the nobleman's son. Cecily... Cecily and I... played with him... and his... siblings."

"How old were you when you first came to the palace?" The Doctor took another step forward.

"I was sixteen. I... I wanted to serve... in the guards... not make my living... by books, like my father. He... he was disappointed." The Doctor took another step and Eckhart's eyes widened. "No! You..."

"It's ok. You're doing fine, Rolf. Keep talking to me. When did you become captain of the guards?"

"I... I was twenty-four. King... King Henry... appointed me... after... after I..." Eckhart's face twisted. He didn't react when the Doctor moved forward. "I... I helped him... to elope... with Queen Anne. It... it was wrong. I... I shouldn't..." The Doctor reached him and crouched down beside his chair. He reached out slowly to put a hand on Eckhart's arm. His palm had just made contact with the man's sleeve when Eckhart let out a roar. His arm flew up, striking the side of the Doctor's shoulder hard and sending him sprawling. He could hear Eckhart screaming behind him, and shouts from Hesse and Rory. He pushed himself up and a hand landed on his shoulder, helping to steady him as he rose. He turned to find Amy crouching near him.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, getting the rest of the way to his feet. Eckhart was a few feet away, struggling uselessly in Breckenridge's grip. Hesse stood beside them, one hand rubbing at his jaw. Rory was also nearby; the Doctor was relieved to see he was unharmed.

"Well," he said, looking over to the Doctor, "that didn't go so well."

"No."

"What's wrong with him?" asked Hesse.

"Someone's been putting thoughts into his head. Bad ones."

"That... that doesn't make sense," Hesse said.

"No, I don't suppose it does," the Doctor replied, his eyes on Eckhart. The man's struggles were slowing and his shouts had turned to whimpers. He didn't react as the Doctor moved closer. "Rolf, can you hear me?"

"N... no. No, Doctor." Eckhart jerked his head from side to side. His eyes were glazed and as the Doctor took another step, they rolled back in his head and he went limp. Breckenridge muttered a curse and adjusted his grip before the man could slip to the ground.

"Put him on that settee," Rory said, indicating a piece of furniture near the fireplace. The Earl complied, moving aside so the younger man could check on his patient.

"Is he dead?" asked Hesse.

"No," Rory replied, his fingers on Eckhart's wrist. "He's just unconscious."

"What is going on here, Smith?" Breckenridge turned to stare at him. "You said someone was putting thoughts into his mind. How is that possible?"

"It's... difficult to explain."

"Try."

"Do you have soothsayers?" Rory asked, startling them both. Breckenridge and the Doctor turned to look at him and he flushed, but he kept going. "You know, fortune-tellers, oracles..."

"Yes," the Earl said, "we have people who claim they can see the future. I don't..." He stopped, his eyes widening. "Ah. Some of them claim they can see into people's minds. Is this like that?"

"Yes," Rory said.

"No." The Doctor spoke at the same time. Breckenridge looked over at him in confusion and Amy hit his arm. "Ok," he conceded. "It's a bit like that. Only instead of reading thoughts, this... person is adding them."

"A person who can plant thoughts in people's heads?" Hesse shook his head. "If there is such a person, how... how can we know if our thoughts are our own?"

"If your mind had been altered, you'd be panicking right now," Rory told him.

"Like Eckhart did."

"Exactly," the Doctor said.

"But that doesn't mean this person won't try to affect us later."

"No, I'm afraid it doesn't."

"There must be something we can do to stop this," Hesse said.

"Hold on to who you are," the Doctor told him. "Keep remembering."

"Like you were trying to get Eckhart to do?" asked Amy.

"Exactly like that."

"That's it? That's all we can do?" Hesse clearly wasn't pleased.

"We need to find this person and stop him," Breckenridge said.

"That is my intention," the Doctor answered, moving toward Eckhart. Rory stepped aside as he reached the settee. The Doctor crouched down and raised his hands, reaching for Eckhart's face. _If I can reach his mind... _

"Doctor, are you sure this is... safe?" Rory asked.

"No," he replied, not stopping. He laid his hands on Eckhart's face and closed his eyes in concentration. The voices behind him faded as he reached out toward Eckhart's mind. _Who put this idea in your head? Who told you the Earl was a danger? When? _There was no response to his questions, or any gentle probing he tried. After a few minutes he withdrew.

The babble of overlapping voices intruded on his senses once more. They grew quiet as he started to stand. Rory was at his side, still radiating worry. The Doctor gave him a quick smile, hoping to reassure him that he was fine.

"Well?" asked Amy.

"Nothing," the Doctor answered, shaking his head.

"Nothing? You mean his mind is..."

"No, no. He's in there still. At the moment he's done the mental equivalent of curling up under the covers and hiding."

"Is there any way to bring him out of it?" asked Rory.

"I don't know. Perhaps in time."

"Let me see if I understand this," Breckenridge said slowly. "You can... read men's minds, Smith? Did you know this, Captain?"

"No," Hesse answered, shaking his head.

"It's not mind-reading, exactly," the Doctor said.

"Then what..."

"We need to see to Eckhart," Rory interrupted. "We can't just... leave him on your settee." Amy nodded emphatically. The Doctor stayed quiet, watching as she and Rory took charge. Amy went with Hesse to tell Lady Cecily that her brother had fallen ill. Breckenridge summoned men with a litter to carry the unconcious Eckhart to his sister's chambers. Hesse returned to let them know that Lady Cecily was ready and the men carted Eckhart off. Rory went along, wanting to give Lady Cecily some instructions about taking care of her brother. The Doctor caught his arm before he left.

"One more thing," he said softly. "Tell her to talk to him. Keep talking about the past, about their childhood, anything she can remember from their early lives."

"Do you think that will help?"

"I don't know," he admitted, "but it can't hurt to try."

"And it will keep her remembering who she is at the same time," Rory said, nodding. "Right. I'll make sure she knows." The Doctor nodded, stepping back to let his friend go.

The room was quiet as the Earl, Hesse, and the Doctor waited for Rory and Amy's return. The fire was crackling softly and there was the clink of dishes as a pair of servants cleared away the half-eaten desserts from the table, but no one spoke. Breckenridge paced the length of the table, weaving around the servants. Hesse waited near the end of the settee, looking anxious. The Doctor stood near the fireplace. After a few minutes, the captain turned to him.

"Will Eckhart recover?" he asked.

"I don't know," the Doctor admitted. Eckhart's panic when the truth was revealed, and his mental retreat, were worrisome. Had the being who'd planted the idea of distrusting Breckenridge in his mind also managed to create a sort of mental self-destruct? He felt a chill run down his spine.

"How does it work?" Breckenridge demanded. The Doctor looked over at him, startled by the question. "How is it that you can... read men's thoughts?"

"It's... it's difficult to explain."

"You said that before."

"Yes, and you said to try. I remember."

"Well then?" Breckenridge arched his heavy brows. "What were you trying to do to Eckhart?"

"I hoped to get a sense from him of when the idea about distrusting you first occured to him, where he was, who was he with..."

"And how were you going to do that?" asked Hesse. "Are you... are you saying you can read men's thoughts the way this other person can?"

"No... well, yes, but not in the_ same_ way."

"And can you plant thoughts in our minds too?" demanded the Earl.

"Not in the same way..."

"The same way? You know how this was done to Eckhart then?"

"Yes. No. Maybe." The Doctor started to pace only to find Breckenridge in his way. He stopped, rubbing his hands together.

"Smith, my patience is not infinite."

"Lord Breckenridge..." began Hesse. He stopped as the door to the chamber opened. Amy and Rory entered. They took a few steps and came to a stop, staring at the trio near the fireplace. Amy's brows drew together in a scowl.

"What's going on here?" she demanded.

"We were asking Smith about... reading thoughts," Hesse said. Amy glanced at Rory before they both crossed the room to stand with the Doctor.

"Eckhart is resting comfortably," she told him. "Lady Cecily said she'd keep talking to him like you said."

"Good."

"I fail to see how any of this is good," Hesse said. "Eckhart is unconscious and so long as his... mind is closed, there's no way for you to find out who put these thoughts into his head."

"We don't need to find out who did it," snapped Breckenridge. "It's perfectly obvious who's behind it all. This is exactly the sort of trick that weasel Arasand would pull. The question is, what are we going to do about it?"


	25. Chapter 24: Hal

**Hello Dear Readers. Thanks for coming in to read this; please leave me a comment or two on your way out? It would brighten my day.**

_Hal glared at the black-haired man facing him. The man scowled back, his eyes narrowing. He raised his sword, ready to attack again and Hal braced himself. His hands ached but he tightened his grip on his weapon anyway. The man lunged forward, his sword hoisted over his head and his voice raised in a piercing scream. Everything seemed to slow as the man moved toward him. Hal could see the opening, the man's exposed chest and stomach, and his sword seemed to move of it's own accord. The man's scream turned to a howl of anguish. He stumbled back, leaving Hal's sword red with his blood, and dropped to the ground. He sat for a second, staring up with a look of surprise on his face, before he fell back against the gravel of the courtyard. Hal looked down at him, feeling his stomach churn, and he let the sword drop from his hand. His anger faded as fast as it had come and he realized he had no idea who the man was or why they'd been fighting. He turned away, tears stinging his eyes, and stumbled toward the palace. He needed to get inside, to find..._

"My Lord?" Nevins's voice came from his left, startling Hal. He turned toward it and realized he was in darkness. There was a hiss of a match being struck and then a candle flame flickered to life. Hal stared, feeling his heart pounding, as he realized he'd been dreaming. He was in his bed, the sheets and quilts tangled around him. The light from the candle gave him a glimpse of one half of Nevins's face, showing lines of tension around his visible eye.

"Wha... what is it?" Hal asked, struggling to free himself from the bedding so he could sit up.

"I'm sorry to wake you so early, My Lord, but Captain Hesse says it's an emergency," Nevins answered. "He must see you."

"What emergency?" Hal managed to get free of the last sheet and scooted back against the headboard, shivering a little in the chilly air of his chamber. He could see the glow of embers in the fireplace now, and there was pale light leaking in around the edges of the curtains over his windows.

"I... I don't know, Sire. Shall I go and ask?"

"No," Hal said. "Let Hesse come in."

"Yes, Sire." Nevins turned away, heading for the door. Hal turned, letting his legs dangle over the side of the bed. He found his slippers with his feet and was searching for the robe he'd left draped over the foot of the bed when Nevins admitted Hesse. Hal pulled on the robe before turning to face his captain of guards.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, My Lord," Hesse began, "but there's been an... well, I don't know what it is, exactly. There's a dead man in the guards' practice yard."

"What?" Hal felt like he'd swallowed a stone.

"Lieutenant Grayson and I went to the court-yard shortly before dawn to prepare for this morning's training. We had to light the torches in order to see and once that was done, we could make out the figure in the center of the practice square. I investigated just enough to confirm it was a dead man before coming to alert you. Grayson is on guard, with orders to keep anyone else out of the court-yard."

"Do you... do you know who this man is?"

"I did not recognize him when I looked, but it was still very dark and... well, his death was apparently not an easy one."

"I see." The stone in Hal's stomach seemed to grow heavier. "Who else knows about this?"

"No one, My Lord. I came directly to you." Hal nodded, pacing a little in front of his fireplace.

"I... I should send for Eckhart."

"I'm afraid you can't, My Lord," Hesse said. "He... fell ill last night. He had to be carried to his sister's chambers."

"Oh no." Hal felt a wave of nausea sweep over him.

"I'm afraid so, My Lord. If I could make a suggestion?"

"Yes, please."

"Master DuPond and Doctor Smith are learned men. Perhaps they could determine how this man died. It may prove to be nothing sinister after all."

"We can hope," Hal said, shuddering. "All right. Send for them at once. Direct Nevins to return to me. I must dress and see... see this body."

"Yes, My Lord." Hesse gave a half-bow and hurried from the chamber. Hal wrapped his arms around himself, shivering despite the heavy robe. Flashes of his dream returned to him, the shouts of the stranger, the way the blood had coated his sword. The rock in his stomach was a boulder now, threatening to double him over.

Hal dressed as quickly as he could. He directed Nevins to select a simple tunic and breeches, waving away the additioal trappings which he normally wore as Lord High Steward. He didn't need jewels to view a corpse. The servant complied, clearly shaken by the early morning emergency.

When Hal emerged from his bed-chamber, he found Rory and the Doctor waiting with Captain Hesse. Rory's hair was dissheveled and he was unshaven. The Doctor, on the other hand, looked as if he'd been awake for hours.

"I trust Captain Hesse has told you what this is about," Hal said as he joined them.

"Yes," Rory answered.

"Well then, let's go and see." Hal took the heavy cloak Nevins offered him and drew it around his shoulders before starting toward the door. The others moved after him, Hesse coming up to walk alongside him once they stepped out into the corridor.

No one spoke as they moved briskly through the palace. Torches burned at regular intervals, lighting their way. The sleepy-eyed guards they passed were startled, dropping into hasty bows once they realized who was with Captain Hesse. Hal nodded in acknowledgement to them but didn't speak. His nausea was increasing as they moved through the palace and he kept his lips pressed together.

The air outside the palace was cool and damp. The lighting was gray, the sun not yet visible. Hal drew his cloak closer around him as they strode toward the guards's practice courtyard. The sound of their booted feet crunching on the gravel seemed very loud and he wondered that they didn't find faces at the palace windows, looking out to see who was making all of the noise.

Hesse's lieutenant was waiting at the edge of the courtyard, shifting his weight from foot to foot and alternating between rubbing his hands together and blowing on them. He didn't wear a cloak, just his guards's uniform. His light brown hair was swept back from a widow's beak and worn long, reaching his shoulders. When he saw them coming he straightened up, his eyes going wide as he recognized Hal.

"Your Lordship. Captain." Hal gave a nod toward the man, his eyes going past him to the figure on the ground several yards away. He waited, his eyes wandering over the court-yard, while Hesse spoke with his officer.

"Any trouble, Grayson?"

"No, Sir."

"Good. Please keep to this post while we examine the body."

"Yes, Sir." Hal waited until Hesse had turned away from his man before he started forward. The court-yard was well-lit now, between the sunlight and the half-dozen blazing torches.

Hal had only gone a few steps when the Doctor put out a hand to stop him.

"Just a moment," he murmured. Hal wanted to protest but he kept his mouth shut. Hesse came to a stop beside him. They both watched as the Doctor moved toward the practice square. He was walking on his tip-toes, his eyes sweeping the gravel-covered ground as he took tiny steps toward the practice square. Rory stepped up beside Hal, huffing out a sigh as they waited.

"He thinks he's Sherlock Holmes now," he muttered.

"Who?" asked Hesse.

"A fictional detective. He was big on finding footprints."

"I'm afraid Grayson and I most likely trampled any marks when we came in."

"Yes, you did," the Doctor called, startling them all. "There's nothing to find here. Come on." He waved for them to follow as he stepped over the line into the practice square. Rory shook his head slightly as he started forward. Hesse moved with him. Hal let them lead the way. The rock in his stomach was on fire now and he could feel sweat beading up on his forehead. A drop raced down the back of his neck, slipping beneath his collar to trace a path along his spine.

His steps slowed as he entered the practice square. Rory was kneeling beside the body, while Hesse stood at it's feet. The Doctor was behind Rory, moving slowly around the corpse.

"He was stabbed, with something with a large blade," Rory was saying. "There's a lot of blood." Hal looked at the dark-stained gravel around the corpse's mid-section and tasted bile in the back of his throat. Rory lifted one of the arms and let it drop.

"Rigor hasn't set in."

"So this is recent," Hesse said.

"It looks like it." Rory got to his feet. "I'm just a nurse, not a medical examiner. I don't know that I can tell you much more."

"This man looks familiar, but I can't name him," Hesse said, gazing at the face of the corpse. "My Lord? Do you recognize him?" The captain turned toward him and Hal took a reluctant step forward. The sweat was moving in streams rather than drops now and he shivered in the chilly air. For a second he thought of turning and running away, but he knew he couldn't do that. He took another step and let his gaze move slowly up the dead man's body toward his face.

The corpse wore all black - black boots, black doublet and hose, and a high-collared black tunic. Hal stopped at the collar for a second, noting the gold thread trimming it, before he forced himself to go on to the face. The thin lips were twisted in a grimace of pain, the wide eyes staring sightlessly up at the sky. Hal felt his heart slam into his ribs. He took a step back, struggling to catch his breath but afraid to open his mouth for fear he'd vomit. His heel caught on the hem of his cloak as he moved backward and he stumbled. Strong hands caught him, turning him away from the corpse.

"What is it, Hal?" the Doctor asked. "Do you know this man?" Hal shook his head.

"I... I don't know... who he is," he stammered, "but I..." He clamped his mouth shut, tasting bile once more. He swallowed. "Last night I... I dreamed..."

"What did you dream?"

"I... I was here and... and I... I fought with him." Hal heard Rory's startled gasp and Hesse's voice. The Doctor spoke over the captain, his tone matter-of-fact.

"You fought with the man on the ground?" he asked.

"Ye... yes. I... I stabbed him... with a sword... and I... I killed him!"


	26. Chapter 25: Amy

Amy paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. One hand clenched the wrapper she wore over her nightdress close around her neck. The other was tucked into a pocket. She could no longer see her breath but the air in the chamber was still chilly. She was moving in part to keep warm and in part because her impatience wouldn't allow her to sit.

"Mistress DuPond?" The servant's voice broke in on Amy's grousing. She turned and saw that the young woman, Gail, was holding a cup on a saucer. "I brought you some coffee. Leonard and Theodore are bringing up bath water in a few minutes."

"It's about..." Amy bit back her sharp retort, continuing in a calmer tone. "Good. Thank you." She stepped over to collect the cup, taking a sip of the hot liquid.

"Shall I go lay out your clothing?" asked Gail.

"Yes, please." The servant nodded and turned to go into the bedroom Amy shared with Rory. Amy stayed where she was for a moment, taking another sip of her coffee before putting the cup and saucer down on a small table. She flopped into the wing-backed chair beside it, slouching in the seat and stretching her slippered feet toward the fire. As eager as she was to be dressed and able to move about the palace, she was not looking forward to being corseted again.

The crackling of the fire was hypnotic and Amy felt weariness settling over her. They'd been out late at the supper with Breckenridge, discussing what to do about the thought-planter. The Earl had been convinced that the person was part of the Iberian party and it had taken some time to persuade him to let them investigate more before he made any accusations. They'd been so tired when they returned to their quarters that they'd gone straight to bed, putting off any discussion about how they might investigate until the morning.

It had seemed that she'd no sooner fallen asleep than the servants were knocking on the bedroom door to tell them that Captain Hesse was here to see them. It had taken Amy a few minutes to wake up enough to realize what was going on and by the time she'd donned her robe and slippers to follow Rory, he was returning. He started to get dressed, telling her as he worked that Hesse had found a dead body and wanted him to examine it. Amy started to collect her own clothing but Rory told her to stop; there wasn't time to wait for her to change, he said, cutting off her protest with a quick kiss. He left and she dropped the corset and chemise she was holding onto the bed, cursing women's fashions. _I should have insisted they wait, or gone as I was. It'd hardly be the first time I went wandering around in my nightie with the Doctor. Or I could have demanded men's clothing to wear instead. _She huffed out a sigh and turned her gaze from the fire. The curtains were drawn back from the windows, letting the gray light of early morning stream in. She tried to decide how much brighter it was now as opposed to when Rory and the Doctor left, and wondered how much longer they'd be gone. She shifted in the chair, tucking her feet up beside her and leaning one cheek into the wing, letting her eyes close against the light for a moment.

The next thing Amy knew, someone was shaking her by the shoulder. Her eyes flew open and she turned her head to see the Doctor looking down at her.

"Up, Pond," he said. "No time for napping."

"If you wanted me awake," she retorted, struggling to get herself upright in the chair, "you should have let me come along." She slipped her numb feet to the floor, wincing at the pins-and-needles sensations from them. She stayed seated in the chair, not ready to trust her legs to hold her.

"Captain Hesse would have been scandalized if you went traipsing about in your nightie and it would have taken too long for you to get into a gown."

"Women's fashions in this place are ridiculous."

"Women's fashions are ridiculous everywhere, in one way or another."

"Says the man who wears a bow-tie." The Doctor's hand reached for his shirt collar, only to stop half-way as he realized he was tie-less. Amy bit back a grin.

"Bow-ties are cool."

"Just because you say it..."

"You should get dressed now," the Doctor said, interrupting her. "We need to go see Eckhart."

"Where's Rory?" Amy asked, getting slowly to her feet.

"With Hal. He was... upset."

"About the dead man?" Amy spoke over her shoulder as she crossed the room to her bedroom. "Who is he?"

"We don't know yet, but Hal had a dream about him last night."

"A dream? Was it the thought-planter again?" She paused at the bedroom door to look back at the Doctor. His head was down, his hair falling across his brow and disguising his expression. When he didn't answer, she spoke again. "Doctor?"

"Hurry and get dressed," he answered absently, turning away to walk back toward the fireplace. Amy watched him for a second before turning to go do as he said.

Amy worked as quickly as she could, but it still took her twenty minutes to bathe and dress. Gail wasn't around so she did her hair herself, managing to get it gathered into a neat bun on the back of her head after a couple of tries. She paused to check herself in the full-length mirror, giving a little hop to get the skirt of her mustard colored gown unstuck from the edge of a petticoat. It slid down, hiding the white slip, and she nodded in satisfaction.

The Doctor was pacing in front of the fire place when she emerged from her bedroom. His hands were clasped loosely behind his back and his head lowered. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice her and after a moment she cleared her throat to get his attention. He stopped his pacing and looked over at her.

"Amy," he asked, his voice sober, "are you and Rory ok?"

"What?" The question caught her off-guard. _Did Rory say something to him? _ "'Course we're ok. We're good. Why?"

"This... thought-planter. He, or she, uses doubts. Unexpressed worries. They give him his chance, a place to start. He drops in little notions, building on those doubts, making them grow. He works from there, expanding his influence, adding whole new ideas and emotions."

"Like with Eckhart."

"Yes. His... doubts about his worthiness and his worries that his help with the elopement was the real reason King Henry promoted him were the opening this person needed. He built from there." Amy nodded.

"This thought-planter is alien, isn't he?" she asked. "Can't we use that to find him?"

"We're alien."

"Doctor..."

"He, or she, obviously can pass as someone from this world, just as we can."

"Great. Another one who looks Time-Lord."

"Yes." The Doctor's frown deepened. "Amy, you and Rory..."

"I told you. We're fine." Amy folded her arms over her chest and scowled. "What about you, Doctor? Are you ok?"

"I'm always ok."

"Doctor..."

"We should go. Rory promised Lady Cecily that he'd look in on Eckhart this morning."


	27. Chapter 26: Rory

_**I'm sorry for the delay in this getting this chapter out here. RL has been kicking my rear lately. I hope the next chapter won't take nearly so long.**_

Rory scratched at his chin as he paced Hal's bedroom. The Lord High Steward was bathing in the adjoining bath-chamber and Rory could hear the slosh of water in the tub through the half-open door. No doubt Hal would shave as well and don fresh clothing, all things which he hadn't had a chance to do yet this morning. When they'd reached the palace, the Doctor had announced his intention to check in on Eckhart. He'd cut off Rory's protest with instructions to keep the Lord High Steward calm before rushing off. Rory had stared after him for a second before turning to go with Hal and Hesse to the Lord High Steward's quarters, where the captain had left them.

"So," Rory said, forcing his attention back to the conversation he was in the midst of, "you said Arthur found a secret passage in your bedroom?"

"Yes," Hal called from the bathroom. "I... I didn't like it, at first. It was dark and full of cobwebs and dust. I didn't want to go in there, but I knew Arthur wouldn't go without me."

"So you went anyway."

"Yes." Rory nodded even though Hal couldn't see him. The story fit the pattern. He'd spent the last hour or so talking to Hal about his childhood and each tale had shown the same pattern. Arthur, the confident older brother, had pulled his more timid younger brother along on one adventure after another. Rory couldn't help but wonder how Anne and Grist had reacted, both to the boys' adventures and to the dynamic between them. Had they been pleased to see Arthur take Hal under his wing, or had they been concerned that he would push the younger boy too hard?

A loud sloshing sound from the bath-chamber brought Rory back to the present. A minute later Hal emerged from the room, clad in a robe. The sight of his clean-shaven face made Rory's chin itch and he scratched at it, his fingers scraping against the stubble. Nevins followed his master out and paused, frowning at Rory for a second before turning to say something softly to Hal. The younger man nodded and the servant moved away, leaving the room with a final frown in Rory's direction.

"Nevins is going to have water brought up for you," Hal said. Rory paused in mid-scratch, feeling his face warm.

"Oh. Um, thanks."

"Captain Hesse should be back soon and we... we have to figure out who that man is... was."

"Hal..."

"I know... I know I didn't kill him. The Doctor explained. Someone... someone planted that thought in my head, gave me that dream."

"I know it's hard to understand..."

"Why? Why would someone want to put that thought in my head? How does it... help anyone for me to think that I..."

"Maybe the... the thought planter wants to... shake you up. Make you doubt yourself."

"Like I don't do enough of that already," Hal muttered.

"Hal, why did Arthur make you Lord High Steward?"

"I... I don't know. He didn't tell me."

"But you must have an idea."

"I think... I think he wanted to... help me."

"Help you how?"

"He was always... always thinking I could do things, when I was little. Anything he could do, he thought I could learn to do too. He was always... pulling me after him. Making me try things."

"So he thought if he made you Lord High Steward you'd what? See that you could be a king too?"

"Maybe not a king, exactly, but... but something like it. A... a leader, maybe."

"Whatever he had in mind he obviously believed you could do this."

"He always thinks I can do things." Hal shook his head, his lips quirking in a faint smile.

"What?"

"I was just remembering. Arthur and I had this argument all the time, when we were kids. I told him he was always thinking I could do things and he told me he was always right, that I could do them. And the thing is, he was. Every time." He chuckled, shaking his head again. He beamed at Rory and Rory felt relief wash over him. Hal seemed in no danger of slipping away as Eckhart had.

"Just keep reminding yourself of that," he said and Hal nodded.

"I will. Thank you."

Nevins and the bathwater arrived a few minutes later and Rory went to clean up. He left the door to the bedroom half-open, as Hal had, listening as Nevins helped Hal dress. He bathed as quickly as he could, shaving himself before Nevins could offer to do it, and stepped out into the bedroom to find that the servant had set out one of Hal's outfits for him to wear. Nevins helped him into it, guiding him over to a full-length mirror once they were finished. Rory stared at his reflection, watching the way the silken fabric of the quilted tunic glinted in the sunlight from the windows. It was a deep red color with a thin gold band trimming the high collar and the cuffs. The padding in the tunic made his shoulders and chest look broader. The black breeches he wore were made from finely-woven wool and clung to his legs, making him glad for the tunic's length. The clothing he'd been given before had been nice, but this was a new level of luxury. Nevins brushed an invisible speck of lint from one of Rory's shoulders and nodded in satisfaction.

"If you have no further need of me, I'll go see about your breakfast," he said. Hal nodded his consent and the servant withdrew. Rory continued to stare at himself in the mirror.

"It's good to be the king," he murmured, fingering the smooth fabric at the hem of the tunic.

"Lord High Steward," Hal corrected. He didn't look as terrified as he had earlier, but his smile had vanished.

"Are you all right?" Rory asked, turning to look at the younger man.

"That man... was he killed because of me? Because this... thought-planter needed something to put into my head?"

"Hal..."

"I know. I know. It's not my fault, it's the thought-planter's. I can't blame myself. I have to go on, for the good of the kingdom. Etcetera etcetera." Hal shook his head and got to his feet. "We might as well go see if breakfast is ready. I'm sure it's going to be a busy day." He stepped past Rory, heading for the door and after a second, Rory turned to follow him.

Hal was quiet as they ate. There was quite a spread of food to choose from but the young man stuck with toast and ham. Rory added some home fries to his ham and toast, passing on the eggs and sausages. Both men had coffee with cream and sugar; Hal added enough cream to his cup to turn his beverage beige in color.

They were both sipping on second cups when Hesse arrived. He swept into the room, his mouth set in a hard line and his expression grim. Rory set his cup down, feeling the food he'd eaten forming a rock in his stomach.

"Sire, Master DuPond," Hesse said, giving a half-bow to Hal.

"Have a seat, Captain," Hal answered, waving Hesse toward the chair opposite Rory's. "What have you learned?"

"We still haven't identified the man," Hesse said, "but based upon his clothing, I feel certain he's one of the Iberians. None of our people wear those fashions."

"Is there any way to confirm that without involving the other Iberians?" Rory asked. "Maybe one of the servants..."

"They brought their own attendants," Hal said, shaking his head. "Please, Captain, help yourself to some food or coffee."

"Thank you, M'Lord." Hesse reached for the coffee-pot, filling the empty cup at his place. "I'm afraid you're correct about the servants. None of our people are likely to know who the man is."

"Then we'll have to ask Arasand," Hal said. Hesse paused, his cup half-way to his mouth, a look of surprise on his face.

"You think that's wise, Sire?"

"I think it's necessary. If the man is one of the Iberians, Arasand will know him."

"And how do we explain his death?" asked Hesse.

"We tell the truth," Hal replied, "and then we ask if Arasand has any idea how the man came to be in that courtyard when he should have been in the part of the palace which has been set aside for the Iberians to use." Hesse's eyes widened for a second before a smile spread over his face.

"Very good, Sire. That is an excellent question."

"I hope Count Arasand will have an answer for us," Hal said.


	28. Chapter 27: The Doctor

The Doctor kept his head down as they walked down the hall toward the staircase. He was aware of Amy stealing glances at him from her place at his side and he could feel the concern radiating from her. _"I'm always ok?" That was the best reassurance you could come up with? That wouldn't fool..._ He shook his head as if to scatter the thoughts. _No. Leave no openings._ He forced his mind to the task at hand. He wanted to check on Eckhart. The thought-planter had been busy playing with Hal's mind last night so there was a chance his grip on Eckhart had slipped. If that had happened, then the Doctor might be able to reach him. If he couldn't revive him, he might at least find a clue to the thought planter's identity in the other man's mind. _Surely he left some trace of himself behind. If not, I don't know... no! Stop it! __No__openings__._

"Doctor?" Amy's voice jolted him and he realized he'd come to a stop at the head of the stairs. She was standing beside him, looking worried. "You ok?"

"Ye.. yes. Yes. I'm fine. Let's go." He started down as briskly as he dared, sliding one hand along the bannister as he went. Amy followed. He didn't need to look back to know she was frowning at him. _Focus_, he reminded himself. _Mind what you're doing right now, nothing else._ He reached the bottom of the stairs and came to a stop as he realized he didn't know where Lady Cecily's quarters were. Amy caught up to him and stopped, frowning at him.

"Doctor..."

"Which way?" he asked.

"What?"  
"To Lady Cecily's quarters? Which way?"

"Oh. This way." Amy pointed across the main hall to a corridor and the Doctor started toward it. She reached out to catch his arm. "What is with you?" she demanded.

"I'm concentrating," he answered, pulling free from her grip and starting on his way again. She hurried after him.

"Concentrating on what?"

"What I'm doing."

"Which is what exactly?"

"Going to check on Eckhart."

"Doctor!" Amy's protest echoed in the hall and he came to a stop, turning to find her standing a few steps behind him. He crossed the space to stand in front of her.

"Amy," he said, "I am trying to... to focus. On one thing."

"Ok?" Amy looked confused. He sighed.

"Just one thing."

"I don't... oh." Her eyes widened. "Oh. But... should I... what about..." She stopped, biting her lip.

"Lady Cecily's quarters," the Doctor said firmly. "Check on Eckhart."

"Right." Amy nodded. "Right. This way." She started forward, dodging around him, and lead him into the corridor. He moved after her. _Focus. Just one thing. _

The servant who opened the door to Lady Cecily's chambers was scowling. Her frown deepened when she saw Amy and the Doctor.

"Lady Cecily is not receiving callers today," she said. She started to close the door and Amy put a hand out to stop it.

"Lady Cecily is expecting us," she told the glowering woman. "Please tell her that Mistress DuPond and Doctor Smith are here."

"I wasn't aware..."

"Constance, who is it?" Lady Cecily's voice came from further into the room. Amy took advantage of the servant's distraction to push the door further open. She stepped forward and the Doctor moved after her.

Lady Cecily stood in the center of the room. The light streaming in from the windows behind her caught the sheen of her gown and the silver in her hair. She was elegantly dressed, with her hair coiled around her head. She was holding a handkerchief in one hand but her eyes were dry and her voice was steady when she spoke.

"Amy. I'm glad you've come. But... but I thought Rory..."

"Rory is with the Lord High Steward," Amy said. "There was... well, he's needed there at the moment. I've brought the Doc... Doctor Smith with me."

"Oh yes. The... Doctor Smith." Lady Cecily held a hand out to him. Amy nudged him and he realized he was supposed to do something. Shake Lady Cecily's hand? Bow over it? He could never keep these little rituals straight even when he wasn't struggling to keep his mind from wandering. He grasped Lady Cecily's hand briefly, his eyes going toward the two doors opposite the fireplace.

"Lord Eckhart is where?" he asked, gesturing toward the doors. Lady Cecily stared at him and Amy shot a glare at him before looking back to the older woman.

"What he means is, how is your brother this morning," she said.

"The same as last night, I'm afraid. I spoke to him long through the night but he never responded, never reacted at all." She lifted the lacy handkerchief toward the corner of one eye.

"I need to see him," the Doctor told her.

"Of... of course. He... he's just through there." She gestured toward the door on the left. The Doctor nodded and turned away. He could hear Amy saying something behind him but he wasn't paying attention. _See Eckhart. Reach Eckhart. Find thought-planter._ The thoughts ran on a loop through his mind. Another thought, quieter than the others, whispered at him. _What if you can't? _ He shoved it away and reached for the door handle.

The room was dimly lit. The curtains were still closed and the only illumination came from a candellabra on the bedside table. Eckhart was in the center of the bed, propped in a half-seated position. His eyes were closed and he looked as if he was asleep. His breathing was slow and steady. He didn't move as the Doctor made his way around the end of the bed and up along one side.

The Doctor hesitated for a moment before sitting on the edge of the mattress. There was still no reaction from Eckhart. The Doctor stared at him, suddenly nervous. His hands twitched and he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. His hands steady, he reached out to gently touch Eckhart's face. He slid his fingers toward the pressure points, closing his eyes and reaching out with his mind. His fingers had just reached the right places when Eckhart gave a sudden growl and jerked beneath him. The Doctor's eyes flew open just as the other man head-butted him. Pain stabbed through his forehead but he didn't get a chance to yelp. Eckhart's hands were around his throat, squeezing hard. The man was snarling and growling like a feral animal, his eyes wild. The Doctor grabbed his wrists, trying to push his hands away, but Eckhart squeezed harder, digging his nails in to the Time Lord's flesh. He continued to snarl and growl as he kept his tight grip on the Doctor's neck.

The Doctor's lungs were burning and his forehead was throbbing. Pushing at Eckhart's wrists was accomplishing nothing; the man's grip was like a vise. The Doctor could feel himself growing desperate. His eyes were tearing and his vision was blurring. He couldn't pull away, which left him one option. He steeled himself for the pain. For a second he let himself relax, and then he snapped his head forward, returning Eckhart's earlier head-butt. The Doctor pulled back as the man's grip loosened, tumbling from the bed. He wound up sprawled on the floor, his head banging into the floor. Fortunately it was covered with a thick carpet. His forehead both stung and throbbed, a sharp spike of pain shooting through it.

"Doctor!" Amy's cry of surprise made him flinch. A second later she was kneeling over him, her eyes wide with worry. "What happened?"

"Eh..." The Doctor stopped, wincing. It hurt to talk and he could barely make any sound. He swallowed painfully and tried again. "Eckhart," he managed. "Reacted badly." He started to sit up and Amy reached out to steady him. He was grateful for her support; his head was spinning.

"What's happened?" Lady Cecily's voice came from the doorway. "Rolf? Rolf!" There was panic in the woman's voice. The Doctor shifted, getting his feet beneath him. Amy stayed with him as he stood shakily.

Eckhart was sprawled on the bed, his hands out to his sides and his eyes staring unseeingly up at the ceiling. There was a red mark in the center of his forehead and the Doctor thought he could see a lump rising there.

"Rolf?" Lady Cecily moved toward the bed. "Rolf? Can you hear me?" She quickened her steps, moving up around the opposite side from where the Doctor stood. Eckhart remained still on the bed, not reacting as his sister reached out to smooth his hair. She touched his shoulder, repeating his name, and gave him a gentle shake. "Rolf!"

"La..." The Doctor's voice still wasn't working. He swallowed and tried again. "Lady Cecily..."

"What did you do to him?"

"I..."

"This is your fault. You were supposed to help him."

"The Doctor was trying..."

"No. No, you haven't helped. None of you have helped. You were supposed to help him keep Hal safe, but you didn't do that. You turned Hal against him, gave Breckenridge pride of place and now... now..." She stopped, pressing a hand over her mouth as she broke down into sobs. The Doctor stared, feeling helpless and useless. His head was throbbing and spinning, his throat burning, and his stomach churning. He had meant to help. _You always mean to help, don't you, Doctor?_ sneered a voice in his head. He felt his legs weaken and he slumped to the floor, Amy's grip keeping him from falling.


End file.
